One Will Fall
by malicious pixie
Summary: Vergil comes back and there’s only one thing on his mind... (a little more to it than that, but just read and you'll find out for yourselves)
1. Drowning in the Flood

Whoo, another DMC fic...cept I don't really know what this is going to turn out to be. I only have a battle set up for this thing so far so it could end up a one shot, few chapters, thing. I don't know. In any case, I would appreciate the reviews.

Here's the first chap

Enjoy,

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One Will Fall**

**_Chap 1: Drowning In the Flood_**

Dante sat miserably at his desk, absently tossing a balled up piece of paper across his office. It hit the rim of the waste basket near the wall and landed with a small splash in the flooded room, joining the dozen or so shots the hunter had already missed. He sighed and grabbed another paper off his desk; crumpled it and took aim, the basket drifting away from the door.

Thunder rolled loudly outside DMC.

Dante groaned and flicked the ball into the garbage; turning to the battery powered radio, tuned almost permanently to static, and moved the dial without much hope of finding a clear station.

Nothing.

Dante growled and smashed the off button, realizing even if the stations were clear and the volume was on full blast, he still wouldn't be able to hear it over the torrential rain sheeting down outside.

It had been raining heavily and non-stop for days. The clouds had burst open unexpectedly, releasing torrents of rain that swept through the city, turning the streets into rushing rivers that pulled away any and all things that dared to move into their path. The depths of water had grown so much that a current had formed that was almost strong enough to drag away an eighteen wheeler.

Ground floors of buildings were flooded and power and telephone poles were ripped down, destroying communications. Radio waves were scrambled and receivers mostly gave off static. The sewers had quickly given up their battle with the rain and were now backed up, giving the constant downpour the only option to pool in the streets.

The city was in almost complete darkness. The power had been flickering on and off in places and had completely gone out in parts of the city where the lines had been broken. There was no sun and no moonlight to see by. It was eternally night.

Occasionally thunder would crack violently and long lighting bolts would split the sky, but the light was only momentary; blink and it was gone.

No one dared go outside and not just because of the pouring rain. A haze hung low over the city from the thick, dark clouds overhead as the rain hit the ground and steamed up into a fog. It was easy to get lost in the raging storm.

Dante had never minded the rain before, but now he was beside himself with boredom. He'd been sitting in the darkness of his office for days and was running out of old paper work to toss into the garbage. He was also tired of watching the short flames of the candles dance their feeble light around the room.

The devil hunter missed electricity and the bright neon glow of the sign outside his office. Devil May Cry just wasn't the same without it. Somehow, with it off, Dante felt just like everybody else. He'd always been different, but without the sign lit up, nobody would ever know it. Devil May Cry was just another darkened building sheltering someone from the storm.

"Oh no you don't," said Dante, pulling his desk back as it began to float away from him in the almost knee deep water that had flooded into DMC the second day of the storm. He propped his legs up on the top, trying to keep it in place but put himself off balance and his chair tilted back, sending him splashing into the grungy water.

He came up sputtering.

"FUCK!" he yelled, at the same time hearing another loud rumble outside, which he took to be thunder. "Will this shit never end?"

He stood angrily, shaking as much water as he could out of his hair, and peeled off his jacket and shirt.

"Great, just fuckin wonderful," he griped, trying to decide where he should put his clothes to dry-as if there was any place.

In an instant he was back under the water, diving for cover from a motorcycle bursting through the doors to Devil May Cry. He heard the echo of the crash underwater and rose up, eyes blazing and coughing up water, mixed with god knows what.

"Does nobody know how to fucking knock anymore?" he growled, "Is there a goddamn sign on my fucking door that says 'Break down door with motorcycle-then enter'?"

Dante saw the motorcycle, the smashed desk and then the man standing in the doorway, seemingly unperturbed by the raging storm behind him or the angry devil hunter.

"I am merely keeping with tradition, son of Sparda," smirked the tall man, his face hanging in shadow.

"Son of Sparda," Dante frowned, "Don't you think that's a little formal...Brother?" His eyes narrowed at the last word.

Vergil smiled and waded into the room. "You do not seem to be very surprised to see me, Dante. I must say I was looking forward to more shock from you."

Dante scowled, folding his arms against the cold wind that was rushing into DMC. "Oh I'm surprised," he said, glaring around the room for his discarded jacket or shirt, "I'm just a lot more fucking pissed right now, so you can't tell."

"I see," Vergil mused, watching Dante's jacket float by out the corner of his eye, "You did not enjoy your little swim, then?"

Dante glowered, irritably brushing aside wet strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes. "No," he grumbled, "I like diving into sewer water. It's my new hobby. What's a pain in the ass, though, is having my office destroyed by you and this fucking weather."

Vergil let his eyes fall around the room and back outside. The storm was still going strong. "Pity," he said, without much emotion, "I had hoped to set the mood for my return. It is a shame my work is not being appreciated."

"Your work?" Dante asked, stunned, "You did this? You made the storm?"

Vergil frowned, "That is what I was implying, yes."

"But why?"

The taller white-haired man sighed. "Must I point out the obvious to you, Brother?" He stepped closer to Dante, his face coming more into view. His pale eyes were narrowed and his mouth was set in a scowl. "Are you too thick to notice the loathing I possess for you? Do you not realize how much I despise you?" Dante watched him silently. "Allow me to make this clearer for you, Brother."

Vergil suddenly rammed his fist hard into Dante's stomach, causing the devil hunter to cough and keel over. As he was falling, Vergil brought his knee to Dante's face, making his nose bleed freely.

The moment his brother's head had gone below the surface of the water, Vergil stepped on Dante's neck, keeping him under. He watched the devil hunter thrashing to get free and smiled. He wasn't going to kill his brother yet-not in this manner, but he was at least going to enjoy himself for a while.

"Are you beginning to understand my feelings for you dear Brother?" he asked, reaching down and pulling his brother up by the hair; at the same time, not really caring if Dante had heard his question.

Dante gasped loudly, his chest heaving frantically to draw in air. The moment he inhaled, Vergil shoved his head back under, his body convulsing as water rushed into his lungs. The devil hunter coughed and jerked around, breathing in more water with every gasp. The taller man laughed and held him under for a while before finally yanking him up again and tossing him towards the broken desk and motorcycle.

A thick piece of broken wood from the desk impaled Dante's shoulder as he came crashing down on the pile, but his cry was muffled by the choking water in his throat and lungs. He fell over, barking, nearly ready to collapse from lack of oxygen. His head hung low near the water as he kept trying to breath.

Vergil scowled and walked towards Dante, roughly grabbing his upper arm to pull him up. Once again he brought his fist to Dante's abdomen, causing Dante to vomit and spit up the rest of the water in his lungs.

He dropped him, disgusted and wrenched out the stake in Dante's shoulder, none to gently. Dante gave a mixture of a gasp and a cry of pain and fall back to his hands and knees, panting and trying to regain normal breathing.

"Ba....bastard," Dante snarled, a little nasally as he staggered to his feet, still slightly dizzy from the near drowning. He wiped his bleeding nose.

"So you have noticed," Vergil said impassively, watching Dante favoring his shoulder. "We are both bastards, but I do hope my hatred is more apparent to you now."

"Yeah," Dante said, seething, "I think I get it."

Vergil nodded and strode towards the door, "Now we will finish this, Brother."

Dante gritted his teeth and dug a hand into the water, pulling out his drenched jacket and shirt. The clothing felt surprisingly warm against his frozen flesh as he carefully put them on, mindful of his shoulder wound. He splashed water in his face to clear away the blood oozing from his nose and snatched Alastor off the wall, stepping up beside his brother.

"Let's."

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Okay, like I said, I don't know what this is but there should at least be a few more chapters to it. Who knows? I may end up coming up with a plot after all and not just rely on battles.

If anyone has any suggestions, feel free to tell me

Anyway, please review and tell me what you think.

REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW


	2. Sibling Rivalry

Hey. I actually updated something. It's only been what…a month? Whatever. Hard to work and write at the same time.

Anybody reading my other DMC fics: There's probably gonna be an update within the next few weeks for both. I seem to be losing my writer's block so just a heads up to you all.

Anyway. Here's the next chap.

Enjoy.

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One Will Fall**

**_Chap 2: _Sibling Rivalry**

Vergil stepped out of DMC and for a moment all Dante could focus on was the beating rain. It wasn't the kind of weather he would have liked to take a stroll in, let alone battle a sibling to death in, but the choice to fight was clearly not his to make. His brother had already made it plain that he wanted to see Dante dead, very soon and by his hands. Nothing would make him back down. Whether Dante liked it or not, one of the sons of Sparda would die in the end.

Apparently all the years since Mallet Island hadn't served to do anything but strengthen the hostility between the two brothers. Nelo Angelo was dead as far as Dante was concerned but evidently his brother wasn't happy just being reduced to a bad memory. He wanted to make sure that the devil hunter knew that he was very much alive and more than willing to share the experience of defeat with his little brother.

"Are you admiring the rain or are you simply hesitating to fight me dear Brother, because I am quickly losing what little patience I hold for you."

Dante brought his eyes a back to Vergil, noticing the taller man blink from the water whipping into his face. He took a step forward and felt the heavy tingle of the rain on his body. It was cold but it would have felt worse had he not already been frozen. He clenched his jaw, hiding the fact that his teeth were slightly chattering. He hoped that his quivering lip was faint enough that his brother wouldn't notice.

"I already said we'd fight." Dante voiced evenly, stepping down from the step to DMC to join Vergil in the street. The water rushed up to his knees and beat against his legs, making it a minor difficulty to stand. Dante held his arms out for balance. "I'm not going to back out now, especially not from a pushover like you. In fact I'm surprised you're even here considering the major ass kicking I gave you over on Mallet Island."

"That was pure luck," Vergil hissed.

"Of course it was," Dante mused. "It's always luck when the bad guy gets the shit kicked out of him and lives to tell about it. Right? It has nothing to do with the fact that YOU can't compare to your LITTLE brother."

Vergil's eyes flared at the comment and even though it was dark, Dante could see his body suddenly tense and his hands ball into fists before he relaxed his fingers and reverted to his cool manner.

"You may have gotten the better of me once-"

"Three times," Dante corrected.

"…three times…" Vergil snarled, "But you will not be so fortunate again."  
"And why is that?" Dante asked, "Because you can make a little rain? I'm not the Wicked Witch of the West, you know. I won't melt if you dump a bucket of water my head. Hell-I'm already drenched."

"The storm has nothing to do with our sibling rivalry." The taller twin stated venomously. "It was simply designed to set the mood for my return. I wanted you to be miserable when I stepped through your door and I believe I succeeded in that."

Dante frowned. "If that's all you wanted, you could have skipped the storm and just shown me your ugly mug. That would have been enough to ruin my day."

"…perhaps," Vergil growled. "I would remember that for next time, had there been a chance of there ever being one. But considering you will die very soon I see no point in doing that."

"Yeah," said Dante, "Wouldn't want to overload that little head of yours with too much information. You might strain yourself."

Vergil glowered. "Apart from maintaining my patience with you at the moment, little Brother, I will not have to strain a thing to deal with you. You will fall by my hands. That is certain."

Dante couldn't help smirking. "Pretty sure of yourself there, huh Bro?" He sloshed closer, skimming his eyes over is brother. "You don't look any different…'cept for maybe a little more pathetic. What makes you think you can beat me this time?"

"Because the darkness is stronger than the light. You should not have been able to defeat me the last time but-"

"Yeah. Well. Obviously I didn't do a good enough job," Dante said tetchily. "You sure bounced back in a hurry. It's only been a year."

"Indeed," answered Vergil, somewhat annoyed by the interruption. "But it has felt like an eternity waiting for the chance to eliminate you." He folded his arms and stared darkly at the devil hunter, remembering his previous defeat on Mallet Island. "I promise you the darkness will triumph this time."

"Uh huh," Dante said tiredly, "You keep saying that and I'm still not believing it. And who decided that you were the darkness anyway? If I beat you, wouldn't that make ME the darkness and YOU the weak little light?"  
"I cannot be the light," Vergil replied icily.

"But you are," Dante prodded, "I can see it. You're simply glowing!"

"SHUT UP!" Vergil snapped, unfolding his arms.

Dante swung out his sword in reflex and took a fighting stance, grimacing as the weight of his sword put pressure on his wounded shoulder.

Vergil laughed in cold amusement. "We are not battling here, Brother. I would rather we took higher ground in case you forget how to swim and are swept away in this flood. It would take the fun out of bleeding you myself."

"Right. Wouldn't want to ruin your fun." Dante scowled and swung his sword onto his back. "After you then," he said, motioning with a flick of his chin.

Vergil gave a short nod and transformed into a demon, spreading out his wings dramatically as lightning crashed behind him. Dante watched him moodily and shook his head, changing into his devil form. He received a quick beckon from Vergil and flew up obediently after his brother, glad that he was behind him and therefore wouldn't have to worry about being attacked from behind.

Unfortunately, however, the more they climbed, the more cautious Dante found he to be. Every few seconds long bolts of lightning would break nearby and he would have to avoid them with only a split second of time to react. He knew his brother was controlling them and he didn't appreciate having to waste energy dodging when Vergil could fly in a straight path.

"You wanna ease up on the lightning there, Bro!?" Dante called loudly over a roll of thunder. He could just make out Vergil's snickering over the noisy beat of rain and within an instant he had to stop and swerve in midair to keep from being toasted by two more bolts of lightning. "I said STOP, Dammit!"

Vergil looked back with a crooked grin, "Temper, temper, little brother. It is only a little lightning."

"A LITTLE!?" Dante yelled, "Did you n-"

"Calm yourself," Vergil interrupted, swooping to the roof of a skyscraper, "We are here." He transformed back and walked to the center of the building, waiting for Dante to do likewise.

Dante landed and growled, looking around. "Great...You sure picked a perfect place to be a lightning rod."

"Nonsense," Vergil snorted, "We will not be struck here...Not unless I command it. And even then, it is only you who has to worry…"

"...That's comforting," Dante muttered, grabbing Alastor off his back and transforming in one motion. He glared across at Vergil, who chuckled darkly and swung out his broad sword.

"Shall we?"

Dante watched a crack of lightly reflect blindingly off his brother's sword and his frown set deeper. "Do I have a choice?"

Vergil smirked, "None at all."

The taller twin charged forwards, lashing at Dante with his sword. Dante parried the attack and his blade clashed loudly with Vergil's. Both twins stepped back and swung out a second time, their steel crashing in mid-air, sending out blue sparks. They clenched their teeth, pushing the weight of their bodies into the attack, trying to gain some ground on the other.

Vergil gave a satisfied growl as Dante's feet slid back a few inches. "Having difficulty already Brother?" he sneered.

Dante grunted and pressed back, breaking his sword away from Vergil's as he ducked low and drove his shoulder into his brother's stomach. Vergil coughed and took a step back before he was knocked off balance. He raised his arm and brought the hilt of his weapon crashing down at the base of Dante's neck. The devil hunter thudded to the ground, his vision temporarily clouded by large white splotches.

He blinked widely and raised himself to his knees, his head still hung low from the splitting pain of the blow. He could partially see the shine of Vergil's boots before one of them reared up and hit him squarely under the chin. His head wrenched back and his neck popped loudly but was not broken.

Blood seeped from his mouth and nose as he lay on his side, his hurt shoulder crushed painfully under the weight of his body. He could hear Vergil's heavy footfalls echo on the concrete as he rested his head on the ground. They stopped right before his face and the devil hunter found himself once again staring at his brother's highly polished black boots.

"So you think me to be a pushover, is that right? Or did I not hear you correctly earlier?" Vergil asked in a voice tainted with a delighted malice.

Dante said nothing and spat blood at his brother's feet before he rolled over and lay on his back, his eyes closed as he waited for the thunderstorm raging in his head to subside.

"I made a stupid move and you took advantage of my mistake. That's all," he mumbled at last. "You're still just a poor excuse for a devil."

Vergil's eyes danced with rage but he kept his voice eerily calm as he spoke. "Is that so?" he said, the edge of his sword screeching as he scraped it across the ground and brought it to his side. He watched Dante try to haul himself up and glowered harder. "Unless I am mistaken, dear Brother, it is YOU who is having the difficulty in this battle, not I."

Dante lifted himself to his feet and switched Alastor to his other hand, wanting to give his sore shoulder a break. He wiped blood off his face and spat out the rest that was welling in his mouth. "Difficulty?" He forced a grin even though it hurt his throbbing jaw. "Hate to tell you this Bro, but I've been humoring you up to this point. I figured you should at least get one hit on me so you wouldn't feel so bad when I wiped the floor with you…AGAIN."

Vergil narrowed his eyes. "You lie."

Dante held his smirk as he gazed at his brother's furious face. Vergil really had gotten the better of him but he wasn't about to admit it and miss out on a chance to piss him off even more.

"Oh," he said in mocking tone, "You thought I was fighting for real? That's so sad. I hope you didn't wear yourself out too much with all that prancing around you think is fighting."

Vergil said nothing but his body was rigid and his chin was held high so he stared across the rooftop instead of at his brother. Dante came up to him incautiously and grazed his eyes over Vergil's weapon. He could see the taller twin's fingers flexing angrily on the handle of his sword. His knuckles were white.

Dante shook his head, frowning jokingly and pretending to ponder something. "See now…THIS is your problem," he said, pointing at Vergil's sword. "It's too big and heavy for you. You gotta shop in the kiddy section if you want a chance to beat me. You can barely lift that thing."

"My sword is perfectly adequate," Vergil rasped through gritted teeth, irritated by the devil hunter's brashness. "And I am able to wield it far better than you yours."

"Oh." Dante stepped back, feigning surprise as he looked over his brother again. "So what is it then? You just naturally suck?"

Vergil's eyes shifted back to Dante. He was glaring but the devil hunter only smirked and shrugged at him.

"Guess we both couldn't get dad's power," he said.

"…You had much too large a mouth even when we were children, Brother," Vergil stated smoothly. "I find it sad that nothing has changed. You are now no more a man, than you were then; merely an overgrown, disobedient child, running around with sharp objects. I suppose our mother never taught you better."

"…I guess not." Dante said quietly, his lip twitching with anger at the mention of his mother. "Your boss Mundus kinda saw to that didn't he?"

"So it would appear," Vergil said unemotionally. "Mortals are so easily done away with."

Dante bared his teeth and growled. "She wasn't just a MORTAL you Fuck. She was YOUR mother too. Don't you care what happened to her?"

"I care for nothing and no one," Vergil continued in his dismissive tone. "And it is a shame that you wasted years searching for a dead woman."

The devil hunter's pale eyes flashed with fury. "Don't talk about her like that!" he roared. "I was looking for you too…" He suddenly quieted but his shoulders still rose and fell with angry breaths. He sighed loudly and dropped his gaze from Vergil. "…Though I'm sorry I ever did. To think I ever cared what happened to you..."

Vergil snorted. "And is that statement meant to hurt me, Brother?"

"…No…" Dante raised his head. His face was vacant and his voice dangerously calm. "But THIS is."

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What a terrible place to leave things and yet here it is. Mwahaha. End of chapter.

Just wanted to get something up before I went away for a week. Whoo Vacation! The battle will continue in the next chap so just review this one (please) and sit tight for the rest.

Review Review Review.


	3. Shattered Reserve

There we are. Another chapter and think I've finally worked out a plot for this thing (not that writing battle after battle sequence is all that bad). Whatever

Here it is.

Enjoy

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**One Will Fall**

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_Chap 3_: Shattered Reserve**

Despite the warning, Vergil didn't even have enough time to blink before Dante attacked. The devil hunter moved with such remarkable speed that Vergil barely saw him approach and only knew that he'd struck when his head snapped back and he felt the cold steal of Dante's sword slash across his abdomen and up towards his face, gashing his neck.

Blood spurted between his fingers as he clamped is hand to his throat, trying to stop the fountain. His mouth made sucking noises while he struggled to breathe. And he coughed, sputtering out more crimson liquid into the rushing puddles at his feet.

Dante stood back and watched the blood slide off his sword, letting the rain wash it clean. He heard the painful suck and desperate gasps for air coming from his brother's hunched form. He wondered for an instant how much pain he had actually caused him and then realized with surprising certainty that he really didn't care.

He was done with his brother. He was finished trying to find good in him that wasn't there-or if it was, it was buried too deep for it to be worth taking the time to find.

Vergil was just Nelo Angelo; another opponent; another minion to the darkness that Dante had to do away with.

"So did it hurt Bro?" Dante asked mildly, referring to his brother informally out of habit. "It looked like it hurt. Did it hurt? I could do it again if you're not sure."

Vergil growled but it sounded more like gurgling water. He coughed again to clear his throat of the obstructing blood and dragged his shoulders up so that he stood as tall as he could with a throbbing body and freely flowing wounds. Already he could feel a heat beneath his hand that was not the warmth of his blood and he knew that his injuries were healing. Though it did not change his awe at how much damage his little brother had caused by one simple blow to the face and a slice across the chest.

For a second he even believed that this battle would indeed be a repeat of Mallet Island…But only for a second.

The taller twin stared at the glint of his brother's sword and watched the last of his blood drip off the pointed tip. He glowered and heaved is own weapon back to his side, feeling a short stab of pain with the movement, but he ignored it. His wounds were almost healed.

"Yes. Brother," Vergil said slowly, "It did cause me pain. I will not lie to you about that. And I think it is only fitting that I return the favour. No?"

Dante frowned. "I thought I was the one returning the favour here."

His brother smiled. "You thought wrong."

Throwing his sword ahead of him like a spear, Vergil ran forward and ducked below Alastor as Dante knocked his weapon away. He struck out twice with his fists, hitting Dante square in the gut and placed a high kick to the devil hunter's face. Dante's head jerked back again but he was dazed only for a moment and he swung his own fist at his brother, missing, but whipping around with his sword for a second attempt. His blade ripped through Vergil's side and the taller twin roared in anger and pain.

While his wound healed itself, Vergil started swiping his sword furiously at any unprotected part of his brother's body. Dante bent his sword across his chest to protect his front, gritting his teeth as he strained to defend himself from the attacks.

Vergil hissed in frustration as Dante held him back and his eyes flashed dangerously. He changed course suddenly and began driving his sword down stronger and closer to Dante's hurt shoulder. The devil hunter felt a wicked vibration move up his arm from Alastor. His narrowed his eyes in pain, but continued to hold his ground, even though Vergil's assault was getting more frenzied.

A deep chuckle escaped his brother's lips and before Dante realized he couldn't take any more, his arm gave out and he dropped his sword. Alastor crashed to the ground and Vergil set his foot on it, kicking it aside. He grabbed Dante sharply by the throat and squeezed his thumb against his air pipe.

Dante reached up to dig his fingers around Vergil's hand and pry him off, but his brother raised his other arm and crashed the hilt of his sword into Dante's shoulder. Dante dropped his arms and cried out, the sound getting muffled before it left his mouth as he continued to choke. He twisted around in Vergil's grip but couldn't shake loose.

"Stop fighting," Vergil snapped, watching his brother resist him tiredly. "There's no fun in choking you to death. I just wanted to see if it was possible for you to be silent for a time." He loosened his grip slightly but did not let Dante go.

The devil hunter relaxed somewhat and brought his angry eyes to his brother's, seeing as he lifted them that Vergil was now completely healed. He opened his mouth to breath and immediately tasted the blood in his mouth and realized finally that he himself wasn't healed. In fact, none of the damage Vergil had inflicted upon him had healed. His arm and shoulder still throbbed and the ache was worse than it had ever been because of the exertion of the fight and the damp, cold weather. His body didn't seem to be healing itself at all. Even his nose was still fractured and still bleeding.

"I know what you're thinking," Vergil said listlessly, watching the rain drip blood of Dante's face. "You're wondering how is it you will win against me while my body heals itself and yours does not."

Dante frowned, choking out a response. "It'll heal…it's just…taking a lot longer than usual."

Vergil smirked. "You think so?"

The devil hunter hesitated in his reply and Vergil snorted.

"Yes," he said listlessly. "I like you much better this way…Silent."

Dante glared at him. "What did you do?" he asked heatedly, starting to struggle in his brother's grip again.

Vergil scowled and thumped him in the stomach to quiet his wriggling. Dante's knees bent and he coughed violently, feeling nauseous. Vergil raised him to his feet again, only to throw him forcefully away. Dante skidded across the ground and came to rest with his face in a puddle. He groaned loudly.

"Painful. Isn't it?" Vergil walked up beside him. "Afraid it's only going to get worse for you."

"…what did you do?" Dante asked again, quietly, his face half emerged in water.

"Doesn't matter really." Vergil shrugged. "Suffice it to say that you won't be healing any time soon. Or at all for that matter, considering you will be dead soon enough. You're just as weak and worthless as any mortal now."

"We'll see about that," Dante half moaned, raising himself up shakily with one arm.

Vergil snorted and pushed him back down with his foot. "Now how did I know you were going to say that?" He smiled, but there was not amusement in his tone. "You so-called heroes give yourselves way too much credit. You don't honestly believe that you will recover from this do you? You can't beat me. But you're welcome to try and prolong your death if you feel you must do SOMETHING."

He took his foot of Dante's back and stepped away. Folding his arms, he watched his little brother lie still for a few minutes and then struggle to his feet, swaying in the pelting rain. Dante looked around dreamily for his sword, groaning again and cupping a hand to his stomach. He noticed Alastor gleaming in the rain behind Vergil but did not move to get it.

"You'll need your sword if this fight is to remain fair," said Vergil unthreateningly. "You'd best come and get it."

"Fair?" Dante gawked in disbelief. "You think this fight is fair? Where the hell have you been all this time? It seems pretty fuckin uneven to me."

Vergil exhaled loudly. "Perhaps it is. But would you rather continue fighting as we were, or would you like to fend off my sword with your bare hands?"

The devil hunter scowled and dropped his eyes to the ground where Alastor rested. "I'll take the sword," he muttered.

"I thought so," said Vergil, boldly turning his back on his brother as he reached for Alastor.

Dante kept his gaze solidly on him and was prepared to step out of the way when Vergil flung him his sword. The blade sang as it twirled through the rain towards him and he bent backwards, grabbing the hilt. He then straightened himself into a fighting stance.

Vergil nodded his head. "Good catch."

"Thanks," Dante replied coldly, "If I didn't know any better I would've thought you wanted be to miss."

Vergil laughed. "I would not have been heartbroken if you had."

"No," Dante muttered. "I wouldn't think so. But let's cut the chitchat now, Sweetheart, and get this shit over with."

The taller twin lifted his sword, pointing the tip at Dante. "After you, Darling."

For the next few minutes, the sons of Sparda were almost complete blurs. Both men's swords flashed ceaselessly through the air, making short and sharp clangs as they collided with each other. They leapt high and sank low, trying to gain some ground on one another but the fury of their attacks were pretty evenly matched. After some time they broke apart and leapt back to opposite sides of the building. Both men's chests heaved with their panting and they both held their weapons loosely in hand.

Dante's legs burned and he'd had to transfer Alastor to his other hand because his shoulder was almost paralyzed with pain. It simply hung limp at his side, throbbing just to remind him that it was still there. He'd also suffered a few more cuts to various parts of his body. They were all minor, but their pain combined made it very uncomfortable to move.

He glared across the rooftop at his brother who was standing still, almost like a statue. Through the rain he couldn't see much detail but he knew his brother's eyes were trained on him.

"You had enough there Bro?" Dante called over the pounding rain.

Vergil shook his head and suddenly lightning crashed beside the devil hunter on the ledge, inches from where he stood. He jumped to the side in shock, losing his balance and teetering on the edge before he regained his footing. Unfortunately, his unsteadiness and the weight of his sword caused Alastor to slip out of his hand and it drop like a lead weight to the street, landing straight in the river of water below and was lost.

"SHIT!" Dante exclaimed and bent over the edge, searching fruitlessly with his eyes for the sword.

Vergil grunted and slung his sword over his shoulder as he splashed through the puddles towards his distracted brother. Nearing the center of rooftop, he suddenly went completely quiet, narrowing his eyes as he listened to the storm.

"Damn! GODDAMN FUCKING HELL," Dante yelled furiously, kicking the concrete rail of the building as looked up from the street.

"Ssh," Vergil hissed, now scanning the rooftop slowly. "Just shut up."

"Fuck you. I'm not going to shut up," Dante turned to stare lethally at him. "You made me drop my sword you dumb fuck!"

Vergil's eyes widened. "Be quiet! I'm trying to-"

He gasped, two curved blades having flown through the air and embedded themselves in his back. He fell forward onto his knees, grimacing and dropping his sword as he reached behind him to remove the weapons. While busied with that, three more similar blades shot out of nowhere and stuck into his chest and leg. He bellowed and bent over again, ripping out the blade in his leg. Feebly rising to his feet, he scooped his sword off the ground just as the whole rooftop shone red; a demon popping out of every glowing red circle like wildfire.

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Now if there were any mistakes. Oh well. I didn't feel like proof reading. Just let me know what you think and THANKS for all the reviews thus far.

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	4. Painful Interruption

Ok. Wow. This chap is finally finished. Can't tell you how much I was interrupted when I was trying to write this….maybe that has something to do with the chap title….

Whatever. Hope it was worth the wait. And I hope you guys appreciate me putting one of my other updates on hold to get this up for you impatient little freaks.

Luv ya guys.

Keep the reviews comin.

Enjoy

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One Will Fall**

**_Chap 4: _Painful Interruption**

They were marionettes; vicious, but one of the weaker levels of demons. Dante looked around at their crooked limbs, weighed down by daggers or wide pendulum blades and he scoffed—Nothing really to worry about, even with their ever growing number. The demon puppets were always more of a pain in the ass than an actual threat because of their persistence when attacking. At least that was how Dante remembered them from a little over a year ago when he was fighting the Darkness on Mallet Island. Even their malevolent masked faces didn't bring an ounce of fear in him. He wanted to laugh at their vacant eyes and slow stalking movements as they floated along on invisible strings towards their prey.

Dante listened absently to the dull clunk of their bodies as they were cut down by his brother's sword, or simply moved around his flashing weapon, throwing their own knives from a safer distance. They didn't seem at all concerned with Dante, which is what bothered the devil hunter-not that he was entirely complaining. It was just weird to be completely ignored by demons when HE was the devil hunter and Vergil was the devil. It didn't make sense that he was forgotten while Vergil fended off a hoard of mindless puppets.

Then again…they may not have noticed him just yet, which Dante hoped wasn't the case as he shuffled back to the edge of the concrete rail and peered over it shakily. No sword. And he was freezing. It suddenly occurred to him just how cold he was now that he was standing in one place. The pounding rain was getting to him and he was tired of being drenched and constantly pelted with cold water. He could see his breath in front of his face and his fingers and lips trembled.

Was the temperature dropping? Could Vergil control that too? And how in the hell was he making the rain in the first place? He was never able to do that before. How much stronger had he become since Dante and him had fought on Mallet Island?

It was all just an endless flow of questions and Dante wasn't getting any answers. He looked over at his brother, watching him continuously take down one marionette after another and his confusion intensified. Why was he still being ignored by the demons?

Vergil roared and slammed his sword into the ground, creating a shockwave that Dante could feel under foot, even from where he stood. It cleared away a small circle of puppets but as they disappeared, a second line of marionettes moved to take their place. The taller twin growled again and swiped at the endlessly pursuing demons. Dante could tell he was getting physically tired and frustrated by their relentlessness. Maybe now he understood something of what Dante had gone through when battling his way to Mundus.

Dante had to admit that he was amused by the change of tide. He wasn't used to seeing his brother get his ass royally kicked and not be a part of it himself; especially when it was the minions of the Darkness that were doing it. But it also made him uneasy. It made him wonder what Vergil had done to incur that wrath of his own master—if it was indeed the Darkness that was controlling the demons. And if it wasn't…who was manipulating the puppets to their will?

At the center of the rooftop, Vergil kept up his frantic defence, aware all the while of his brother's stupidly gaping face. And although he did not actually expect it from Dante, he still became angry at the fact that his brother was doing nothing to help him ward off the puppets. He knew that, had he been in Dante's position, he would have been all too pleased to stand back and watch his brother die. But he presumed Dante was better than that. In fact, Vergil simply decided that helping him was something Dante should feel he must do—Dante being the hero and all. And Vergil was family. Didn't Dante care even the slightest amount for his well-being?

Perhaps. Perhaps not. But whatever the case, Vergil had had enough fighting. He'd barely moved an inch in either direction from where he'd first been struck by the marionette's blades. And he didn't want to paint himself into a corner, but it wasn't the easiest thing to fight at the heart of swarming demons. He had to constantly spin around to cover his back, front and sides. It was exhausting and unrewarding work because the marionettes just kept coming. And it wasn't long after his shockwave attack had failed to make more than a small dent in their population that Vergil fell to his knees, bowing his head as if he accepted his defeat. The demon puppets moved in immediately, completely eclipsing him from Dante's view. He knew exactly what to expect when their arms rose above his head as they lifted their blades awkwardly into the air.

Dante saw the huddled mass of demons and there faintly glistering weapons and, without thinking, called out his brother's name. _"Vergil!"_ It had sounded so desperate and so unlike his voice. And for a second he didn't even believe the name had been uttered by his mouth, yet he knew it could not have been from anyone else. He didn't know why he'd yelled for his brother because he'd already told himself that he didn't care about him anymore. He was supposed to have finished giving a damn about what happened to his twin. But maybe it was harder to forget family in an instant than he'd thought.

As the marionettes dropped their arms in one heavy motion, slicing down with their blades, Dante eyes widened and he rushed forward, only to be blown back by a massive burst of light. The whole rooftop exploded with lightning and Dante was instantly blinded and his body was rendered numb. He only knew he'd hit the ground when he no longer felt weightless or the swooning sensation of flying back through the air. Everything tingled painfully from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. It was like his whole body had fallen asleep and was now waking up in one giant mass of pins and needles. His insides burned and he felt a horrible ache in his chest, and if he could have felt his skin, he would have noticed the scalding heat of it.

He was scorched through and through, though the damage remained more internal. And on the outside, the devil hunter did not seem too worse for wear, except for the blood flowing more freely from his various wounds.

It took a while for him to be able to open his eyes, and when he did, they lifted to mere slivers. What he saw through his lidded gaze was pretty much what he had been staring at behind his eyelids. Black, with soft blurs of white and other splotches of transparent color, nothing making and actual coherent image for him to grasp onto.

His hearing wasn't any better and as he strained to listen, all he got was a high pitched whistle and a throb in his ears like there was too much air pressure.

He groaned and felt the need to stand but his limbs and other body parts were not responding to any impulse from his brain. He was completely paralyzed and even breathing was a feat. All his bodily functions were sending urgent requests to be let alone to sleep. Everything wanted to shut down, and groggy and disconnected from the world itself, Dante was more than ready to oblige.

Hunched over on his knees, Vergil had been collecting his energy and the moment the demon puppets had meant to finish their assault, he'd let loose all the power he'd stored up in a wave of electrical attacks, calling every ounce of force from the darkened heavens and the storm he'd created. When he rose to his feet he was grinning and felt a strong sense of victory, but he quickly realized his praise for his actions had been misplaced. His plan had worked. He'd destroyed every last marionette with his attack…but he'd also created something else in their place.

All Vergil could do was gawk at the legion of demons he'd summoned from the skies. They covered every ounce of space atop the skyscraper. Every place there had once been a demon puppet; there was now another sort of creature of darkness…or light-whatever it was.

The demons were almost human in appearance, but lacked a solid form. Their bodies were transparent and snaking with light as if they were made of electricity, and they sparked and flared with every movement. They were tall; larger-bodied than an average human male and featureless. Together, the rooftop blazed with their light and it was hard to make out just how many there actually were.

Were they going to attack him? Were they his army to control? Either way, Vergil didn't care because he'd suddenly remembered about his brother and as he scanned between the rows of demons, he noticed a smouldering body at the far edge of the rooftop.

He scowled and made his way towards Dante, noting the pale, lightly smoking skin now completely exposed to the elements. The hunter's clothing, for the most part, had been burnt away, and what remained were tatters. _So he got in the way….What a fool._

Vergil nudged Dante with his foot and the hunter let out a low moan but did not move. So he was still alive. Not that it made Vergil feel any better. Their battle was over and he felt absolutely no satisfaction with how it had ended. This was not how he'd envisioned his brother's defeat. He should probably finish him off now, but he felt reluctant to stab a breathing corpse.

No. This was not how things should have been done.

"You do not seem overjoyed by the mess you've made Nelo Angelo."

Vergil was startled by the silky voice of a woman whispering in his ear. His boots scratched the ground as he made to turn but his reaction had been too sluggish and the figure behind him quickly wound her hand around his throat, jabbing her nails into the soft flesh of his neck. Vergil felt a shock move down his spine and he couldn't move.

"Bitch," he muttered, scrunching his eyes as the nails stuck further into his skin at the insult.

"Relax," the mysterious woman said with a slight edge to her voice. "You expected this. You knew that I would come and reclaim what was mine" Another cool hand reached into Vergil's jacket and yanked the chain he wore from around his neck, snapping it.

Vergil growled and his eyes glistened with rage as the woman released him and walked around to meet his gaze. "I hope you enjoyed your little games Nelo, because they are all coming quickly to an end. I do not appreciate thieves." With a wave of her hand, she mended the chain and clasped it around her own slender neck, her auburn hair falling in waves below her shoulders. "You will pay for your foolishness." She lifted a hand, the wide, dark sleeves of her robes sliding down to reveal her pale arm. Thunder crashed high above as her eyes misted over and shone violet. The demons standing at attention behind her stepped forward and swung their arms down in a flash, forming a large blast of energy that slammed into Vergil's chest, making him fly backwards and into the wall of the rooftop staircase. The concrete cracked with the force of his crash and the taller twin thudded to the ground, blood oozing down his forehead.

_Maj_. The name of the woman struck him suddenly. A powerful storm sorceress he'd managed to steal the amulet from so he could control the heavens. He hadn't known who she was at the time of the heist, nor did he care now. All he was certain of then was that she had a power he'd wanted to use against Dante. It had been crucial to his plan to take the powerful gem. Not only did it enable him to make the skies do his bidding, the rain also had the wonderful affect of gradually weakening a mortal's mind and body—the reason Dante was unable to heal himself. His human side was affected too much by the amulet to allow his demon half to use its powers to mend his body.

Vergil knew it was cheating. But he also knew that it brought him great joy to watch his brother suffer, especially from what he couldn't understand.

But now the fun was over, as Maj had said. He watched her icily, picking her way towards his fallen brother, the wind and rain not so much as stirring a hair on her head. She was immune to the weather and walked as if she were in another plane. When she bent down to Dante's side, Vergil could just make out her soft sigh as she glanced over the hunter's broken form. She shook her head, silently asking in outrage, _You__ stole my power for this?_

"You used me," Vergil snarled, crawling to his feet. "You made me summon your army because you couldn't."

"Of course I did," Maj said, her eyes narrowed. "How else would I have gotten my amulet back? I have very little focus to my power with out it—regardless of its immensity. I could not control the heavens enough to call my army down. But the worthless puppet demons were easy and I knew, given enough of them, you would have to use a sufficient amount of your ill-gotten power to bring my light minions to life." She stopped for a moment, her eyes staying locked to Vergil's steely gaze. She smiled. "And I couldn't very well just walk up to a son of the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda and demand the return my possessions, now could I?"

Vergil snorted and moved closer to her and his brother. "You're afraid of my power?" he asked, ego rising.

Maj laughed and fixed him with an amused glare. "You? Hardly. I admit there is cause for concern. I know what your father once was and I can only assume his power has doubled in his twins, at least that seems to be the case with this one," motioning to Dante, "Mundus and You, his minion, would not have fallen otherwise."

Vergil's mouth twitched in anger.

"No." Maj said finally, shaking her head. "I do not fear you or your power. It is you who should fear me."

With that, the sorceress slowly stood, eyes flaring violet again. The amulet glowed a bright blue and thunder boomed loudly overhead. All the wind seemed to be suddenly drawn around Vergil's body and it whipped at him ferociously. The frigidness of it was biting and the surge of rain slashed at his skin like tiny razors. He fell over amidst the storm, feeling light headed and frozen all in an instant. As the stinging rain slowly died away, he was hit relentlessly by blasts of lightning from the demon army. His vision went blank and he was lost to the sparking pain; soon feeling absolutely nothing anymore.

Maj held her hand up as he dropped heavily to the ground. "Enough, Pets," she commanded, glowering at Vergil in disgust. "I believe he's tasted enough of his filthy blood for now." She kneeled, tracing a finger through the mask of blood over Vergil's face. It dripped from his eyes and torn lips and he whimpered feebly as he rested his cheek on the cold cement, dazed and barely conscious of anything happening around him. He was momentarily blinded by a large burst of light as the demons bowed to Maj and disappeared.

The sorceress sighed, running her hand along Vergil's jaw as he moaned and tried to shift his face away from her touch. "Get away from me," he groaned, slurring his words as the blood welled in this mouth. "You have your amulet back. You got your revenge. I am broken. Leave me be."

Maj smiled ruefully. "That I cannot do. You see, if you had been smart, you would have done your research on me—at least further than the mere determining of my power. Though I suppose your world remains too close to the Darkness for you to know, or care for anything else. Pity." She shook her head, dropping her hand from Vergil's face. She got to her feet and her skin suddenly pulsed with light. "I am no mere sorceress, Nelo Angelo. I am a goddess. Old. And as vengeful as any. I am not one for forgiveness and I am well known to hold grudges for a long…long time. You will be punished for your imprudence."

"So just kill me and be done with it," Vergil snapped, the blood drizzling from his open mouth, from his stinging lips.

"No," Maj furrowed her brow, glancing to her side at the devil hunter's still motionless body. "You will suffer for what you have done—to me—you brother. Suffer for all those you have wronged in the course of blindly following the darkness. For as long as your body can stand it, you will suffer…And even then I may not allow you to die."

Vergil growled deeply, the sound climbing from deep inside him. He pushed himself up and charged at the goddess-sorceress-whatever she was claiming to be and swung out at her with his hands, fingers bent like claws; his only weapons at the time. Maj easily grabbed his wrists and bent his arms back, hearing a loud snap as bones broke. Vergil cried out in agony and crumpled at her feet.

"The pain is only just beginning for you, Nelo Angelo. Only just beginning."

Vergil fell backwards and everything turned a brilliant white then faded quickly to black as another blot of lightning coursed up through his body.

Maj raised her arms and cleared the storm away with two large sweeping waves of hands, as if she were wiping the darkness from the sky with a rag. She returned to Dante's side and placed her hands over his body, her palms glowing softly as she transferred a heat from herself into his frozen flesh. The hunter stirred and his eyes fluttered open, groaning loudly. Already his body was bathed in a red light as his demonic blood healed his ailments.

The auburn-haired goddess smiled, though the softness of her face was not visible to Dante because of the sun shining brightly behind her head. He reached a hand shakily to touch her face but she'd already drifted back to Vergil.

"All will be well soon devil hunter. You brother will hurt you no more."

Dante seemed to nod, not really understanding her statement fully before he went quiet and fell back to sleep.

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So that's it (but not of the fic. Thought I'd clarify that for those I confused by the statement). Longer than the other chaps of this fic. Hope nobody was too disappointed by the heavily Vergil side of this thing. Not that it really matters.

As always:

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	5. Captive

Since I got so many reviews for the past chap, I decided to put up an update for this. It's an entirely Vergil chap, but.don't worry Dante fans, the other Sparda boy will be back in the next chap.

Enjoy and keep all the reviews coming

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One Will Fall**

**Chap 5: _Captive_**

"Wake up." Vergil heard a soft voice and felt the cool breath of someone speaking into his ear. He knew without opening his eyes that Maj was beside him. He could sense her presence. And out of spite, he kept his eyes shut, pretending not to have heard her command.

"I said WAKE UP." The second order was stronger and followed by a sharp slap to his face. Vergil opened his glaring eyes to the frowning goddess, feeling very much inclined to return her harsh gesture, but he soon became aware of the fact that his body was immobilized by chains around his wrists and neck. And as he struggled against the iron bonds, the cuffs only tightened; the shackle around his throat causing him to gag and the goddess to smile and shake her head.

"Relax," Maj advised. "I don't need you choking yourself to death before I've had a chance to punish you."

Vergil growled and stretched his neck to the side, glad that the metal collar was somewhat retracting. "Punish me?" he said in a low hiss, fixing his icy stare back on the goddess. "And what do you plan to do? Make me stand in a corner or write lines like an unruly child?" he sneered.

"It is too bad this is such a joke to you, Nelo Angelo," the goddess said gravely, "You would not be so derisive if you knew what was in store for you."

"So what is it then?" Vergil asked, "What am I supposed to be afraid of. Go on," he jibed, "Scare me Bitch."

A blinding light erupted around the goddess, which formed into a shockwave that crashed Vergil into the stone wall behind him. His head and arms snapped forward as the chains were stretched to the limit from the ceiling and his back hit the wall. His vision blurred for a moment as the iron collar dug into the back of his neck. Dazed, he swung by his wrists, returning to where he formerly stood, the metal cuffs cutting into his skin from his weight. He winced and got shakily back to his feet.

"Was that supposed to scare me?" he asked angrily and a little groggily as he raised himself up so the bonds were rubbing less against his stinging wrists.

"No," Maj said coolly. "It was a warning. I do not appreciate, nor will I tolerate, your disrespect."

Vergil snorted and looked away, grimacing from his stiff neck. "You expect an apology?"

The goddess shook her head and folded her arms. "No. I expect nothing from you. Your apology would not be sincere."

Vergil smirked and shifted his eyes to her. "True," he said, "I'll just save my breath then."

Maj looked at him angrily and then her face softened into a disconcerting smile. "Allow me to help you with that." She waved her hand and the chain around Vergil's neck tightened, immediately cutting off his air supply. His eyes bulged and his face turned red as he choked and struggled to free his arms, which only amounted in the bonds contracting around his wrists. He flailed for a little over a minute, his vision fuzzy and his face pale and slightly tinged blue, before Maj waved her hand again and the chains drew back to their original size.

Vergil drooped and coughed violently as he gasped for breath and the chain pulled his chin up, gagging him again, creating a noose around his throat that held his body up as his legs continued to weaken for lack of oxygen. In his daze, he barely felt the collar jab through his neck and draw his blood, releasing a warm trickle of crimson liquid that moved down his pale throat from the searing wound that only worsened the longer he hung from his neck.

He was more than ready to welcome unconsciousness when Maj, growing weary of the strangled sounds emitting from his throat, released him from the neck chain and he dropped heavily, his knees almost reaching the floor as he now completely hung by his wrists. He gave only a barely audible hiss of pain when his weight was transferred to his arms but it was for the most part lost amongst his coughing and sputtering as he tried once again to regain normal breathing.

After a lengthy retching fit, Vergil finally managed to calm down enough to take stuttering breaths and push slowly up to his feet. He kept his eyes to the floor, still incredibly dizzy, and gave a low, rumbling growl when he saw a long robe flutter into his view. Maj's cold hand went to his jaw and gently lifted his chin so that he was looking at her. He irritably tried to pull his face away, breathing heavily, but the goddess squeezed his jaw to keep him in place. He gazed furiously at her and unintentionally cried out in pain when she dug her fingers into the cut on his neck, deepening the break in his skin with her long fingernails. She laughed when he tried to yank his head away from her again, and kept her hold on him, amused by his display of pain.

Vergil's wince turned into a growl and he spat in the goddess' face, reaching up to grab the chains above his wrist cuffs and, jumping up, kicked her in the chest, sending her flying back into the opposing wall of the small stone chamber. As the bricks crumbled and dust fell from the ceiling from the force of her collision, Vergil took the opportunity to transform into his devil half and pull against the remaining bonds on his wrists. Expecting them to break easily, he was surprised when he felt no give whatsoever when he jerked with all his force. Instead, the cuffs constricted crushingly around his wrists and he soon let out a pained growl and relaxed immediately before trying again to snap the chains. Again nothing happened and he looked across the room lividly at the goddess who was now picking herself up off the floor and dusting off her long robe.

Maj's eyes gave away her fury but she still managed a smile as she stepped towards the son of Sparda. "You fool." She slapped him hard across the face, making his ears ring. "You can't escape from those bonds. You are no longer immune to my spells. I have the amulet back, or don't you remember." Vergil scowled—as if he would forget something like that—and she slapped him again.

"I can see why you have never won against your brother," the goddess stated smoothly, "Such weakness. Such stupidity. It is a wonder that the Darkness had held you in such high esteem. But I suppose that is all over now, isn't it, Nelo Angelo?" She smirked, "Though I must give you some credit. You certainly are very skilled at angering the wrong individuals—both the Darkness himself and a vengeful goddess. You don't like making it easy for yourself, do you?"

Vergil clenched his teeth. "You know nothing of my standings with the darkness, goddess," he snapped.

Maj's eyes flickered in delight and she let out a long, and surprisingly deep chuckle. "Oh, apparently I know far more than you, Nelo Angelo, because you appear to be completely oblivious to your master's rage," she mocked after a moment. "You really don't have a clue, do you?" She beamed darkly at him and Vergil narrowed his eyes. "Did you not see the legions of Marionettes I set upon you?" she asked. "You must have because you were battling pitifully against them." Maj stepped closer, studying Vergil's darkened gaze. "Did you ever wonder why the demon puppets were attacking YOU-The supposed Second to the Darkness? Did that thought ever cross your mind?"

"Of course it had," Vergil growled. "I had only assumed it was you all along. You were bound to come for your little trinket sooner or later."

"Yes," Maj said, "I would never have allowed a thief like you to get away with taking my amulet. But did you ever stop to consider how it was I controlled the demon puppets?" she asked, raising a brow at Vergil's sudden, stunned expression. The twin blinked at her and furrowed his brow, turning his eyes away as his mouth went slack.

"I assume by your puzzled expression, you did not," Maj observed.

Vergil glared back at her. "You lie," he snarled, realizing what she was hinting at. "My master would never betray be like that. He would never have given up control of the puppets to you. You must have found some other way."

"What other way?" Maj asked mildly.

"I don't know."

"You don't?"

"No," Vergil grumbled. "But Mundus did not give you control of his minions. I refuse to believe it."

Maj grinned. "You can believe whatever you like if it will make you feel better, Nelo Angelo, but it will not change the truth."

"Shut up," Vergil flushed with rage, "You're just a lying bitch. None of what you say is true."

"Oh if only THAT were true," Maj said sadly, shaking her head and choosing to ignore his not-so-endearing referral to her. "But unfortunately for you, all of what I say is the absolute truth. I can assure you. You're master is far from pleased with your actions. And it was he who gave me the marionettes in order to come after you."

"Why?" Vergil asked, bemused. "Why would he give you the power to command the puppets? I cannot even do that. What have I done to anger him?"

"You stole my amulet."

"What does that have to do with my master?" the twin narrowed his eyes, "It was a personal matter. It should not concern him."

"Oh. But it does. You went behind his back and stole my amulet in his name."

"I did not!" Vergil argued incredulously, "I never even spoke to you until now. How in the hell could I have claimed the amulet in The Darkness' name?"

Maj smirked. "It doesn't matter what you did and did not say. It only matters what my br-Mundus believes."

"What!?" Vergil exclaimed, eyes wide. "What did you just say?"

"I said it only matters what the Darkness believes," Maj repeated, knowing full well that Vergil had been referring to her near slip of the tongue. She ignored his glaring look when she did not say what he had wanted to hear. "The Darkness believes that you angered a goddess in his name in order to exact your revenge on the son of Sparda."

"My brother is the Darkness' enemy as well as mine, so what you say makes little sense, Goddess. The Dark Lord would not care that I go after my brother. In fact, he would be pleased."

"Not unless he wanted the honour of killing his rival himself."

"But that does not explain why he would set his minions in YOUR hands. It would be far easier to stop me himself."

"Perhaps he wanted to appease me," Maj suggested, "Or maybe he wanted it to be out of his hands."

"Whether any of that is true is questionable. But why you? Why would the Darkness care if a harmless goddess is pissed off?"

"Harmless?" Maj scoffed, "Hardly. I have powers of which you could never imagine and I am not without my influence."

"But you're nothing without your amulet," said Vergil, "You said so yourself."

"Not quite," Maj frowned, "What I said was that I have very little focus to my power without the amulet. It is too immense to not be contained by something. I was not about to destroy a city of innocent mortals just to summon up my army to eliminate the likes of you."

"Too bad," Vergil mused. "It would have saved your brother the trouble of doing it later..."

"My brother," Maj snorted and went quiet for a moment; looking down at the floor and then raising her eyes back up to the white-haired man. "So you figured it out. I was wondering what you would assume by my earlier correction of myself."

Vergil rolled his eyes. "Well there wasn't much I could suppose by 'my' and 'br-,' other than that you were going to say 'my brother'," he said.

"True," Maj accepted, "But the fact that Mundus is my sibling doesn't matter greatly, only that it made it easier for me to convince him to act against you. He is really very gullible."

"What did you tell him?" Vergil demanded.

"Nothing, other than the fact that one of his pathetic minions had stolen one of my possessions in his name and that I was very anxious to get it back."

"So you lied to him."

"I may have embellished a little to get him to act faster."

"So you lied to him," Vergil repeated through gritted teeth.

"Yes," Maj said, smiling at the twin's anger. "I lied to him."

Vergil looked at her with a murderous glare. "You lied to the Darkness. And you're not afraid of how he'll react to the news when he finds out?"

"Not at all. And in any case, this is not the first time I have lied to him. He is my younger sibling and he does not scare me. He is far from my equal. And besides," she added with an uncaring wave of her hand, "He owes me."

"How?"

"Enough," Maj shook her head. "I am finished discussing things with you. It is not important what you know. Only that you suffer."

Vergil saw only the goddess' glowing purple eyes before he was flung back against the wall, the chains on his wrists ripping out from the ceiling this time and whacking him in the face and chest. His head cracked against the stone and he felt white hot sparks of pain and a warm flow of blood down his neck before everything went hazy and then black.

* * *

Well that be it for now. Remember Dante's back in the next chap. So review and tell me what you think. I'll try to have the next update done as soon as I can (once school work lags a little).

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	6. Amnesia

And I have returned at last with an update. Booyah. Go me...ahem. Given that I have time and a desire to write, I should probably be getting these up more often cuz I now have my own comp and can't be kicked off.

I have to say BIG BIG BIG THANKS to all the reviewers. Damn. For something that started as just a random battle with the Sparda boys, I am incredibly surprised and thankful for all the reviews I've been getting for this.

You guys ROCK!

Anyway, hope this is somewhat worth the wait.

Enjoy.

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One Will Fall **

**Chapter 6: _Amnesia_**

The alarm clock blared off and on for half an hour before the sleeper button just wasn't a viable option anymore and Dante finally answered the clock's irritating beep with his fist. Like hell he was going to let a piece of machinery dictate his actions. He wasn't getting up any time soon. His pounding headache, aggravated to the max by the alarm, told him as much. He turned over and was just drifting back to sleep when a ringing began. He flipped over angrily, swinging his fist back at the alarm clock, but realized as he opened his eyes a crack and saw the smashed buzzer and clock face, that the alarm was very much dead. It had lost the battle with his fist very quickly, but the ringing was still going on.

Dante scrunched his eyes, grimacing as his head told him he had moved far too quickly given his state, and he slowly sat up, looking around him, figuring the ringing must therefore be the phone—which had to be somewhere on the floor considering his bedside table was empty, save for the broken clock and a lamp.

His room swam when he opened his eyes full and he fell back onto his elbows, feeling the solid bed rock as if he were floating on the sea. Through his hazy stare, he managed to make out the shining cans of 40s on the floor. His headache must be due to a massive hangover. Wonderful. He didn't even remember having drunk a thing; not that he expected to anyway. Happy hour was always a bit foggy.

Not really able, or wanting to get out of bed, Dante was glad when the phone stopped ringing. He wouldn't have to sift through clothes and garbage on his bedroom floor to try and uncover it after all. He dropped his elbows and flopped back onto the pillow, noting again that fast movements were not advisable. He let out a deep sigh and shut his eyes, sinking his shoulders into the mattress, getting comfortable.

The phone rang.

"GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING HELL!"

Dante shot up from the bed, keeling over onto the floor, wishing in an instant that he'd stayed lying down, or had at least used his "indoor" voice. His ears rang and he grumbled low as he rummaged around for the phone cord. His hand clamped around a wire and he yanked hard, meaning to pull the jack from the wall. Instead a lamp came crashing to the floor. Wrong wire.

"Fuck." Dante growled and the phone rang away. He angrily tried to haul himself up off the floor and his hand landed in a pile of clothing and slid off something hard and smooth. The ringing stopped. He fingers closed around the phone's receiver, which he'd knocked off the hook and he raised it to his ear, falling back to rest against the side of his bed, his head on the mattress  
"What?" He asked in a clipped tone.

The person on the other end gave an annoyed sigh and launched in on him. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'WHAT'? I have been trying to call you for three days, Dante. Where the HELL have you been?"

Dante grimaced and pulled the receiver away from his ear momentarily, gripping his forehead as the pain intensified and then dissipated back to an annoying throb. _Three days?_ "Who is this?" he asked, his brow furrowed. Apart from recognizing a woman's voice, he had absolutely no idea who was yelling at him.

There was silence on the other end, the woman apparently at a loss for words out of angry disbelief. "Who is THIS?" She asked slowly and finally, her voice rising at the last word.

"Christ yeah," Dante said in growing annoyance. "Are you my fucking echo? Who the in the hell is this?"

"WHO IS THIS?" The woman shouted. "I leave for a couple days and you already forget about me?"

"Forget about you?" Dante did have to admit that the voice was familiar, though it had a harshness to it that he didn't recognize, or had rarely heard before. "I know you?" he asked wearily, wishing the woman was speaking much softer to him.

"Of course you know ME. Gods. What's wrong with you? Have you been drinking?" she asked in an accusatory tone.

"No," Dante said quickly and then he remembered the cans. "Well…maybe," he corrected. "I don't know. Probably…Possibly. It's a possibility, I guess."

"So you don't know."

"Um…No?"

"Is that a question?"

"No. I mean—I don't know if I've been drinking. I can't remember."

The woman snorted. "Great. I leave you for three days and you decide to go on a bender."

"Hey," Dante snapped. "I wasn't on a bender." He tried unsuccessfully to convince himself that he hadn't been drinking. The theory was hard to dispute. He WAS having trouble remembering anything besides his own name. Even his room, he suddenly realized, was a little foreign to him. "Three days?" he asked, more to himself, than the frustrated caller.

There was a sharp sigh on the other end of the line. "Yes. Three days, Dante."

Dante blinked, focusing his gaze on nothing in particular as he looked towards the wall from his bed. "Three days," he repeated. "But I don't remember anything."

"Yeah. I think you've made that pretty clear by now, Hero."

"Hero?" Dante furrowed his brow.

The caller was obviously exasperated. "You really don't remember anything, do you, Dante? How many brain cells did you kill when you were drinking?"

"I didn't drink!" Dante was almost certain of that now. Yes, his head throbbed, but it just didn't feel like a hangover. And besides, his bladder wasn't on the verge of exploding, so he must not have consumed very much alcohol. And three days of it would more than likely have caused him to live beside the toilet. He didn't feel sick; achy all over, but not nauseous. "I didn't drink," Dante repeated more calmly, more certain of his statement. "I didn't."

"Oh. So now you're sure," the woman said shortly.

"Yes."

"So you know you didn't drink. But you also don't remember what's been happening for the past three days. What's wrong? Did you finally get lost in your own little world, son of Sparda?"

_Sparda_ Dante scowled—this woman had to stop whipping off names on him. "Look Babe," he said testily, "As much as I love being bitched at over the phone by some anonymous woman who seems to think I know her, I would much rather ACTUALLY know who you are if we're going to continue this happy little discussion. So let's just cut the PMS fest for a sec so I can at least catch your name."

The woman on the line huffed loudly into the phone. "This is Tr-" The name was cut off by a dial tone.

"Hello?" Dante shouted at the buzz and then slammed the receiver down, this time managing to pull the right cord out of the wall. "Thanks for calling 'Tr,'" he muttered. "What the hell was that all about?" He growled and got up, shuffling through the mess on the floor to the bathroom. The tiled floor was cold but he ignored it and bent over the sink and splashed water in his face. He looked at himself in the grungy mirror. His eyes were slightly sunken and his lips were chapped. He dragged his fingers through his mussed hair and they got stuck. He winced and untangled himself, knowing that besides suffering from memory loss, he'd at least seen better days.

"Man. I look like shit," he commented as he exited the bathroom and shivered, feeling a draft from the window. He rubbed his arms and noticed that everything seemed a little breezier than usual. He looked down and scowled. "And I'm naked," he stated rather matter-of-factly. "Why does it not surprise me that I don't remember why that is, or why I didn't notice until now?"

Dante rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh, looking around for clothes. He glanced at the ones on the floor and turned his nose up at them. He moved to the dresser. Of course the drawers were empty. It seemed all the garments that were in them had somehow managed to migrate to the floor. The devil hunter slammed a few of the drawers shut and turned his attention to the closet where only one outfit hung on a sagging metal hanger.

"What in the hell…?"

He lifted the hanger off the bar and brought the clothes to the bed. Laying them down, he got a better look at them. _These are mine?_ He raised an eyebrow and took the red pants of the hanger and held them up to himself, checking the length. _They look like they fit…_He checked all the other garments in a similar fashion before finally deciding they were fine to put on.

After slipping everything on from the hanger, he went to the bathroom and looked over his appearance as best he could in a mirror that only went to mid chest. The cold floor reminded Dante that he still needed something to wear on his feet, but he was satisfied overall by the clothes, though they did seem a kind of odd attire for strolling around in public or shopping for groceries. But they felt comfortable and somehow right, so Dante didn't harp over the look. Besides, he had to admit that he looked and felt remarkably kick-ass in them.

He walked back into the bedroom and found what he was looking for stuffed in the back of the closet; a slick pair of black leather boots. He smiled and stuffed his feet into them, leaning off his bed to lace them up and then he stood, shaking himself off. He grinned again. Yeah. He felt good. And the headache was thankfully going away. Either that, or he was feeling better enough to just ignore it.

Moving out of his room, Dante stopped dead in his tracks and his jaw dropped to his shoulders. He gaped around the front room he'd walked into, his wide, pale eyes passing over the weaponry mounted on, and jammed through demon heads as sort of hunting trophies on the wall.

"What the fu…" he trailed off, moving closer to a specific sword hanging on the wall; a large black pendulum blade, veined in red. Immediately the name _Sparda_ snapped to mind and Dante blinked in surprise, running his hand along the smooth blade. _The son of Sparda..._ He grabbed the hilt and scooped the weapon off the wall, his gaze sliding over the surface of the blade. He tilted it towards the light to see its glisten and raised it up and down a few inches, feeling its weight. He swung out his arm and spun on his heel, doing a 360, slicing the blade towards the floor and lifting it just before it hit. He stood again and whipped the sword through the air, making figure eights in front of him, watching the blade move. This felt right too—and all too familiar.

"This is some freaky shit…"

* * *

Well that's it for now kiddies. Don't worry, the Sparda boys WILL be reuniting, but first poor Dante has to remember who the hell he is…how sad. And then we can get back to the brotherly love and battle sequences from the previous chaps. 

So Stay tuned for more. And of course:

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	7. Obey

Back with another update for you freaks. See how wonderful I am? …Ok. Maybe not. But you guys rule. I love reading your reviews. And anybody who's asked me to review for them, don't worry. I didn't forget about you. I will get around to reading your fics. Just gotta scrounge up some time.

_And just a quick note to all you fellow Trish-haters…and you other folk..:_

Trish will not be making another appearance in this fic. The only reason she was even brought in for the phone conversation was because I got a review telling me that it was strange Trish wasn't in the fic and that I didn't explain her whereabouts.

And now I have. She's somewhere, so forget about her.

She won't be coming back, and if she does, you can bet your ass she's gonna die. It's a tradition I take great pride in keeping.

Also there will be **NO ROMANCE**, for those of you who were afraid it might happen. I hate writing it, hate reading it, most definitely in DMC fics. This is ass kicking all the way.

So in the words of Dante: "Let's ROCK. Baby…"

Enjoy the next chapter

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One Will Fall**

**Chapter 7:_ Obey_**

Vergil groaned loudly as he awoke, feeling icy water drip onto his face from the ceiling. His body felt cold and numb all over and he shivered violently. More than actually feeling it, he heard the gurgle of water move around him. The frigid pool of water he lay in was shallow, barely rising a few inches up his body, but it was enough to freeze him to the core and cause pins and needles all throughout his limbs, even with the smallest twitch of his fingers. He grimaced and coughed, feeling the touch of the tiny knives all over, and he shivered again, more for effect than anything else because he was almost beyond the point of feeling cold and he hardly felt attached to his body. He would have assumed he no longer had one if it weren't for the constant, aching reminder of his prickling skin every time he dared to move.

When his eyes finally flickered open, he saw exactly what he'd seen behind his eyelids—absolutely nothing. Whatever room he was in was pitch black, and he could only assume that he was still lying in the cell he had been chained in before.

"Sleep well, Pet?" Maj's silky voice drifted towards him over the water and he growled inwardly and shut his eyes again. "Do not pretend to sleep. I know that you are awake," the goddess said sharply, annoyed that Vergil was going to make it a repeat of their last conversation.

The water rustled by the half-demon's ears as Maj approached. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to will her away with a strong enough thought.

"Open your eyes NOW, Nelo Angelo. I will not be ignored," the goddess growled as she hovered over Vergil's prostrate body. Despite himself, Vergil lifted his eyelids and had to squint immediately as the bright light surrounding the goddess blinded him. He growled at her, but it came out as more of a feeble rasp. His voice was nearly gone.

Maj smiled. "Good boy. You are beginning to obey," she said sweetly, floating down to rest above the water at Vergil's side. "It seems beatings ARE the way to get through that thick skull of yours."

Vergil opened his eyes enough to glare, having no other way to respond to her comment. Maj suppressed a laugh and lifted her hand, the water swirling around the son of Sparda and slowly lifting him up in a small whirlwind. He scowled and turned his face away, hissing out his breath as his body was turned upright.

The goddess frowned. "Look at me Nelo Angelo."

Vergil snorted defiantly and kept his gaze averted.

"I commanded you to look at me," Maj repeated more slowly, more venomously. Still Vergil would not look at her and she grabbed his jaw roughly, turning his face and pulling him forward so that he leaned out of the whirlwind. She raised her other hand and brought it close to his face, her long nails hovering just above his eyes. "If looking at me is so difficult," she said icily, "Then I will simply do you a favour and pluck out your eyes. Then you will not have to worry about gazing upon my face, seeing that I disgust you so."

"NO!" Vergil managed to gasp, his eyes widening out of fear, instead of shutting for protection.

"No?" The goddess tilted her head, pressing her nails softly against his eyes so that he gasped at the sting and his eyelids partially shut. "Now you are giving ME orders, Nelo Angelo?" she inquired scathingly.

"No," Virgil moaned, his eyes tearing. "No—I'm…sorry." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Maj snorted and ran her thumbnail across his cheekbone, just below his eye. Virgil blinked out of reflex. "You're sorry," she leered, "Well that would be a first, now wouldn't it Nelo Angelo?" Vergil squinted at her, afraid to nod his head in case her nails stuck into his eyes, and he mumbled an almost inaudible 'yes.'

The goddess drew back immediately, stopping the swirling water and letting Vergil fall to his knees in the puddle below him. She listened to him heave a wavering sigh and she crossed her arms. "You are lucky I believe that to be a sincere apology. Otherwise I would have to cut out your lying tongue as well as those defiant eyes of yours." She finished with a sneer.

Vergil shook, unsure anymore whether it was due to the cold, or if it was actually out of fear of the goddess, though he would not allow himself to assume the latter. Maj watched him tiredly for a few moments and then asked calmly, "Have you suffered enough?" Vergil nodded weakly and she scowled. "I beg to differ, my pet. That decision is not yours to make."

Vergil scowled in turn. "Then why ask me?"

"I wasn't asking you. I was thinking out loud. And I would watch my tone if I were you. My threats still stand."

Pissed, but keeping his rage to himself, Vergil tried shakily to get to his feet, hating to look so weak in front of the goddess, or anyone for that matter. He managed to rise to about half his height before his knees trembled and his legs gave out. He fell heavily back into the puddle, creating a splash.

Maj chuckled. "Such weakness. I knew you were pathetic the moment I saw you. I very much doubt your brother would be falling over himself like this, were he in your position," she stated derisively, waiting for Vergil's reaction.

Vergil knew she was goading him, but he found it difficult to clam up and ride out the verbal abuse. He clenched his teeth to keep from saying something Maj would make him regret.

The goddess noticed him struggling to hold back and she smiled. "You must envy your brother—having the ability to defeat both you and the Darkness WITHOUT the use, or need of my amulet. It must be terrible to be second best."

The comment came like a slap to the face and Vergil felt more shocked by it at first than angry. "I'm not second best," he said irately after a minute, through his tight jaw. "I was the first to discover and harness my powers."

"And yet you fail to use them as sufficiently as your twin," Maj pointed out mildly. "Or have I simply imagined your crushing defeats all this time?"

"Is that why you are here?" Vergil snarled. "To mock me? Don't you have anything better to do?"

Maj's upper lip twitched as she scowled. "I will warn you again, Nelo Angelo," she began smoothly, "Be mindful of how you speak to me. I do not make idle threats. So carry on as you are only if you are tired of that spiteful tongue roaming within your mouth."

Vergil huffed in response, dizzy with rage he couldn't release. He felt his hands form into fists without him actually thinking about it and he bit down on his bottom lip to keep the insults inside.

"I must say, I am impressed," Maj said, studying his bent over figure for a little while. "I honestly expected you to have lashed out at me by now. You have more control than I previously gave you credit for…Or perhaps," she grinned, "I have made you frightened enough of me that you do not dare."

Vergil growled—oh how he wished he could tear her head off.

"Look at me," Maj ordered. Vergil jerked his head up obediently, trying hard not to let his anger form itself into a glare. The goddess grinned widely, amused by his struggle, and she raised him to his feet herself with a motion of her hand. Vergil felt himself propped up on invisible strings as he stared into deep violet eyes.

"You are doing well Nelo Angelo," Maj commended him again. "I am pleased that you are making an effort to keep your eyes and tongue. Now would you like an opportunity to unleash some of that anger you have built up?"

Vergil narrowed his eyes, wondering what she had in mind, and at the same time, also wondering how he was going to manage any sort of physical activity in his current state.

"I will heal you completely of course," Maj offered, seemingly in answer to his thoughts. "All you must do is agree to my proposal. And if you don't, well…you won't be of any use to me and I will let you continue suffering as you are…perhaps even make it worse for you. Now what do you say, Nelo Angelo? Will you be a good dog and obey?"

"What would I have to do?" Vergil asked untrustingly.

"Agree. And then I will explain." Maj replied. "I promise you. This little mission is right up your alley. And I am quite certain that you will get some satisfaction from the job."

Although he loathed her with every fibre of his being, and did not want to agree to anything she asked, Vergil found the condition of being completely healed too good an opportunity to pass up. He nodded his head solemnly. "I'll do it."

Maj smiled. "I new you would." She placed her hand on Vergil's chest and a white glow began beneath it. Vergil welcomed the warmth at first but as the light grew, the more his body burned and he soon felt an incredible spasm of pain that started within his chest and moved to the ends of his limbs and to the tips of his hair. He cried out and the goddess ignored him, pulling her hand back after a full minute of causing him pain.

Vergil gasped as he was freed from the spell and he bent over, staggering back a few steps. He straightened himself again, breathing hard and looking at Maj. "Did that have to hurt?"

"No." The goddess smirked. "But I decided it would be more fun. Weren't you entertained?"

Vergil growled low, unable to keep that much of his anger suppressed. "I'm healed. Now what?"

Maj frowned but allowed his tone slide and she held out her hand to him, his sword appearing out of thin hair. She passed him the hilt. "Now you will have a little reunion with the reincarnation of someone you knew very well as a child."

The half demon narrowed his eyes. "Trish?"

Maj nodded.

"Why?"

"Because she is getting in the way of the fun I am having with your brother," she said simply.

Vergil scowled. "But I was under the impression you liked my brother."

Maj laughed loudly. "You are the offspring of the devil Sparda. I don't like either of you. But I am dealing with both of you in my own way. Now go take care of the blond woman before I take great relish in reverting you back to your previous state." She opened up a dark portal for Vergil to walk through, calling back to him as he turned to leave with a grunt. "And don't do anything stupid, Pet. I promise you I will make you pay dearly if you do." She shot a small blast of energy at him that knocked him through the portal. It closed behind him.

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Alright guys. That's it for another chapter. I was going to have Dante's section in this too but then I got lazy. Sorry. He'll be in the next chap. Don't know how soon that'll be up considering it's xmas, but I'll try to get it up ASAP.

Once again. Luv you guys. Keep those great reviews comin.

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	8. Confrontation

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! I have some words that really don't mean anything but I saw ice outside and it made me think of them. It's from the old show MASH, which I doubt most of you have either seen or heard of, but whatever.

_"Ladies and Gentlemen, take my advice. Pull down your pants and slide on the ice." Dr. Sid Friedman._

Alright. Like I said. Not sure what it means, but I like the quote anyway. And sorry about the slow update but my new comp was being stupid and had to be revamped, so I lost everything I'd written up till then. And then I had problems with my wireless net connection. Damn technology….

Ah well. Here's the next chapter.

And again, sorry for the delay

Enjoy

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One Will Fall**

**Chapter 8: _Confrontation_**

The whole ordeal was utterly painless and Vergil growled when it was all over. What had been Maj's angle anyway—sending him after Trish? To him, the battle had been a complete waste of his precious time and energy—though he wasn't entirely complaining because he did get healed out to the deal. But still. The reincarnation of his mother was just as weak and as useless as the mortal version had been, so what was the point of it all? How had Trish managed to get in the way of the goddess' big plans for his brother? And more importantly—what were these plans in the first place?

Vergil yearned to know what Maj had in store for Dante. And it made him angry just thinking about it, because he desperately wanted his brother to suffer as long and as hard as he would have, had Vergil been left alone to take his revenge. It wasn't Maj's business what he chose to do with the devil hunter and he was pissed that she'd intervened. This was between the sons of Sparda. Not some random goddess who popped out of nowhere and who claimed to be the elder sibling of the Darkness. She had no right to get in the way, even if Vergil had stolen her amulet to use against his brother. And Vergil was equally furious with the fact that he was being used by Maj. He was not her servant. And he would never bow down to her or quake in her shadow…Not yet at any rate—And not ever if he could avoid it.

True. He had felt fear when she had threatened to mar his face. But that had just been a momentary aberration in his cool demeanour. He would not give her the satisfaction of demonstrating his fear again. He would not be weak—Or so he continued to tell himself as he slung his sword over his shoulder, taking a deep breath to calm his anger and for some reason his nerves. He could feel his anxiety building and as the wind picked up around him and rustled his hair, he felt a tiny prick on his neck and then everything began to swirl around him. He barely felt his legs standing. He was weightless. All the sensations of touch felt so foreign to him. He was detached and a haze covered his mind.

"What…is…"

Vergil was knocked backwards by a bolt of red energy that caught him through mid-torso and sent him sprawling across the road. He felt the small teeth of the concrete dig into his cheek and grate his skin through his clothing. He winced and groaned as the haze over his mind broke and he felt the pain more.

"Nelo Angelo."

The familiarity of the booming voice was a shock and equally as raw as a punch to the chest. Vergil opened his eyes lazily from slits and saw that he was surrounded by darkness. The city and the body of the blond woman he had killed had disappeared and he now lay prostrate in a long throne room whose walls were dark stone. There was no light, save for the eerily glowing pools rimming the walls.

"Master." When Vergil could move, he bowed his head to the Darkness seated before him on the great throne at the head of the room. The large figure of Mundus did not stir, nor make any sign that he had heard the half-breed. "Master," Vergil continued without waiting for permission to speak, wanting to have his story heard immediately. "Your sister lied to you. I did n-"

"SILENCE." Mundus' voice echoed around the room at a deafening pitch and made Vergil bow his head almost to the floor as he cringed. "Do you take me for a fool Nelo Angelo?" It was more of a statement than an actual question warranting a reply.

"No Master, I-"

"I said, SILENCE."

Vergil was blasted back by his master's angry roar and he rolled over a few times before finally coming to a stop near the doorway of the room. The bolt of energy he had been hit with earlier jabbed all the way through his back, making a sharp cry escape his lips.

"You have become weak. Nelo Angelo. I could see it even before you were disloyal to me. You do not deserve the name of that wretch of a devil, Sparda."

The white-haired man lifted his gaze hesitantly and the long path before him seemed to shrink instantly. He found himself kneeling before the ominous figure of the Darkness once again. He opened his mouth but thought better of replying this time. He waited.

"You desired to take matters into your own hands, did you?" Again, it was not posed as a question and Vergil bowed his head more in shame than in reverence. There was nothing he could say to the contrary. It was the truth. He could feel Mundus' eyes bearing down on him. "I know of your plans to eliminate me, Nelo Angelo," his masters voice came, low and threatening. "You wish to take over MY rule. You wish to hold MY power in those unworthy hands."

Vergil's eyes darted up to Mundus, widening in both fear and disbelief. "NO! I-"

"SILENCE INGRATE!"

Vergil was tossed back across the room by the force of the Darkness' voice, but this time a wall of demons had lined up to form a barrier that stopped him before he could fly back too far. He felt the cold hiss of a Frost against his neck and he shivered, slipping down its frozen body to his knees. He remained bent over himself as Mundus took up speech again.

"After all that I have done to mould you into what you are, you choose to repay ME, The Darkness, with treachery?" A large explosion of fiery light erupted around Mundus' body in his fury. Vergil turned his face away from the extreme heat, a sweat already breaking out along his forehead and above his lip.

"You were not content to be my second?" Mundus growled. "I did not confer to you a sufficient amount of power?"

Vergil shook his head, not in answer to his master's questions, but in utter shock. Never once had he shown the Darkness that he was unhappy with his station or his power. Never once had he ever been. But now he was being accused of treason on absolutely no grounds. Though, in his mind, he had a very good idea of how all of this talk of sedition had suddenly come about. He could sum it up with just one name; Maj. But he had assumed that what the goddess had told her brother was simply what she had confessed to him. Apparently she had spun many more nasty little lies than she had let on to him about.

"No," Vergil stood on shaky legs, hoping he wouldn't be silenced this time. "She lied to you. Your sister. I didn't…I don't…I don't want your power, Master." He bowed his head, feeling a sharp stab of pain in his stomach.

"Master," Mundus said dangerously, "Now you wish to mock me? You do not long for my power? You plan treason and at the moment of truth, you cannot even own up to it? You show your weakness every second, Nelo Angelo." His words were dripping with venom.

"What treason?" Vergil exclaimed, "I have made no move against you."

"You stole the goddess Maj's amulet in the hopes that her power combined with yours would overthrow me."

The white-haired man's brow furrowed and his draw dropped despite himself. This was impossible. He was not hearing this. "Lies! All of it. You sister has filled your head with falsehoods. I took her amulet to aid in the slaying of my brother. I had no intention of acting against you. EVER."

"ARE YOU SAYING THAT THE DARKNESS IS NAÏVE, NELO ANGELO?"

Again the room ahead of him blazed with fire and Vergil had to back off a bit as Mundus' voice thundered. "No. No," the half-devil said quietly. "I had not meant it that way, Master. It is just that...," He searched for the proper words, not wanting to bring up the lies Maj had said to his master. "I am not looking to dethrone you," he finished at last, bowing his head again.

Mundus did not seem satisfied. "Your hesitation in telling me so would say otherwise, my dear Second." The comment was not meant endearingly.

"But. I merely did not wish to anger you with the wrong words," Vergil protested, annoyed that he was finding it difficult to clear is his name. "I have always served the Darkness and I will continue to do thus." He dropped to a knee this time, bending low. "Master."

Vergil waited for what felt like an eternity for Mundus to speak. He must have been thinking things over quite in depth if it was taking him this long to reply. The dark twin's knees were even beginning to cramp up and his chest was hurting again from where Mundus had stuck him with the energy blast. And when the Darkness' response finally came, Vergil was nearly bowled over. It was not even close to what he had been anticipating.

"Strike me down, Nelo Angelo."

* * *

Dante paced around the strange front room he had entered for a good half hour after he'd replaced the pendulum bladed sword on the wall. The name Sparda kept running through his mind all the while he scrutinized everything a bit closer. According to the woman on the phone, he was the son of Sparda—though he couldn't very well be the son of a freaky oversized kitchen utensil. And Sparda wasn't exactly on the tips of all parents' tongues when they went about naming their kids. So Sparda was definitely something to think about; that and the fact that he had been called Hero by the same woman on the phone. It made Dante wonder what the hell he'd ever done to merit that label.  
None of it made any sense to him right now, but he was pretty confident about the two conclusions he'd come to—not that he was really a fan of either scenario. Slumping into a creaking leather chair behind a wooden desk, he thought over them again. If this was in fact his room, he was either: (a) mentally unstable, or (b) involved in some pretty messed up shit, possibly pertaining to monster hunting that, according to the incredibly realistic looking demon heads mounted along the walls, did in fact exist.

"Hooray," Dante said bitterly as he gazed around the room. "I'm Buffy the Vampire Slayer," he narrowed his eyes, "…unless I'm certifiable…Which at this point?…I'm not so sure I'm not."

It was a toss up whether he'd need a stake and a deceptively powerful Englishman to be his mentor, or a comfy white jacket with lots of neat straps and a lovely padded room to roll around in.

Lost in his thoughts, Dante almost jumped when the phone rang. It slipped out of his grip as he initially picked it up, but after fumbling for a second, he managed to tackle the receiver and put it to his ear. "Yeah—I mean, Hi?" he said, opting for a greeting to be a little more polite.

"Um…hello? Is this Devil May Cry?" the caller returned.

Dante frowned and switched the receiver to his other ear, taking a gander around the room again as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs on the top of the desk. He sighed. "Your guess is as good as mine, Buddy." A pause came as the caller's response and it was a little longer than Dante approved of. "Hey. Did you call for a reason?" he asked impatiently, "Or did ya just call to hear the sound of my voice? Cuz I'm a little talked out right now."

"Oh. Sorry. Um…maybe I have the wrong number…" The caller said quietly, a little put off by Dante's hostility.

"You would know," the devil hunter answered simply.

"Oh…oh-yeah…I guess…"

After the caller drifted back to their annoying habit of silence, Dante let go and aggravated huff and grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper off the desk. The ink wouldn't flow so he scribbled a bit on the desk top to get the pen working. "Look. What number were you trying to call?"

"Devil May Cry."

"Yeah, I got that," Dante rolled his eyes, the pen poised above the paper. "What number did you DIAL?"

"Oh." The caller gave Dante the phone number and he scrawled it down.

"Thanks," he said, tossing the pen on the desk and looking over the paper. Maybe the number would help him figure something out, if it did turn out to be for this place.

"Well. Is that your number?" The caller asked hopefully.

Dante shrugged and stuffed the paper in his pocket. "No idea."

"…you don't know your own number?"

"I don't know a lot of things right now."

"But-" the caller began, now becoming frustrated. "Who is this?" they asked finally.

"Does it matter?" Dante countered. He heard a muffled curse on the other line and then found himself listening to the dial tone for the second time that day as yet another caller hung up on him. He dropped phone back down and returned to sitting lazily behind his desk, or what he could only assume was his desk. He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back, hearing the chair creak under his weight. He smiled slightly. At least that action seemed somewhat familiar. And it was comfortable at any rate. Naturally the phone rang again at that moment and Dante groaned and grabbed the receiver again.

"Yeah?" he asked gruffly, no more desire for pleasantness. He instantly recognized the voice of the caller who had just hung up. "Not the wrong number after all?" He asked mildly, reading out the number he'd written down before from the paper he'd slipped into his pocket. "That the number you punched in?"

The caller sighed. "Um…yeah." He sounded a little irritated that he'd have to talk to Dante again.

"Great," Dante smiled. "So this must be Devil May Cry then. Thanks, bud. You solved one mystery for me today."

"You don't know the name or number of your own business?"

"I already told you. I'm having trouble remembering things today. So since you seem to know so much more about me than I do. What exactly is this business I'm runnin'?

"Um…this is Dante, right?"

"Yup. That much I know already. You gotta fill in the rest of the blanks for me." This time Dante sat forward with the pen and another piece of paper to write down whatever information he could get from the caller, just in case he forgot something. He waited but the caller didn't say anything. "Hey. You there?" he frowned, only hearing clicking and then background noise, something along the lines of sharp banging. "Hey!" he yelled, expecting that the caller had just dropped the phone and walked off. "Hey! I got que-" He stopped suddenly as he was cut off by an ear-piercing scream on the other end of the line. He waited a bit, a little freaked and then heard nothing. The dial tone kicked in.

"Goddamn! This is a fucking conspiracy." Dante tossed the phone. It seemed like he would never figure out who he was. And every time he thought he was getting somewhere, he ended up listening to a dial tone. And now it seemed like someone was dead—Wonderful.

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Well that's it for another chap. Obviously review and tell me what you think.

I love hearin from you guys. I'll try to have the next chap up soon. And I also have another DMC fic in the works. Another Vergil and Dante thing…And possibly I might decide to update my other stories…Who knows? Stranger things have happened. Anyway

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	9. Altered Memories

So here's another chap finally. Sorry it's been a while but school's started again and it's my last semester at college so I'm really swamped with art projects and getting ready for our show at the end. I'm gonna try to update as regularly as I can but I don't know when I'll find the time.

Anyway. I just have to say that I am so floored by all the reviews I've been getting for this thing. You guys absolutely rule. I never thought I would get this many. And I am sooo not complaining. Keep it up!

And here's the next chap

Enjoy

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One Will Fall**

**Chapter 9: _Altered Memories_**

The phone held Dante's attention for a long time after the hang up from the second caller. He couldn't get the scream out of his head and despite how much he wanted to shrug it off, he couldn't. He'd woken up to too much freakiness to do that.

"What the hell is going on?" Dante asked himself aloud, twirling a pen absently in his hand. He looked around the room again and still nothing was coming back to him. All he knew was that he owned a business, and that the business was called Devil May Cry. The name made sense because the place he ran it in was adorned with lopped off demon heads run-through with random weaponry to keep them affixed to the walls. A woman was pissed that he didn't know who she was and she had mysteriously hung up on him, unless it had been on purpose, which the devil hunter was beginning to have his doubts about considering she'd been cut off. And the most recent caller was dead, or so he presumed.

He was surprised that when he'd woken up he'd even managed to remember his own name, but maybe he hadn't after all? Maybe it had just been the first caller that had pointed it out to him and he'd quickly accepted that name because it'd seemed somewhat familiar. Not that the matter was worth getting hung up on right now.

"Great….great great great…" He grumbled and tossed the pen on the desk, twisting his body around and dropping his feet to the floor to lean his elbows on the top. He rested his forehead in his palms and gripped his hair tightly in frustration and sighed. "Who the hell am I?" He breathed out. A name just wasn't good enough. And being the "son of Sparda" wasn't helping to clarify anything either.

Was he a hunter? Maybe. He demonstrated that he was capable of swinging a sword when he'd lifted Sparda off the wall, but that really didn't mean anything to him right now. All he wanted was to remember something further back than this morning. Even a day would be good—an hour before midnight. Anything, as long as it meant he could remember something on his own without having to hear bits and pieces of his life from chance callers.

"Okay." Dante stood up abruptly and walked towards the large wooden doors. It was time for fresh air. Maybe it would help him think. And if not, a little fresh air never killed anybody. As he was reaching for the brass handle, he paused and spun back on his heel, narrowing his eyes at the desk and skimming his gaze along the left wall. He patted his sides and hips as if searching for something. He frowned. What was it that he was missing?

"Keys?" Yes, keys were a good idea so he'd be able to lock up, but it was something else. Dante took a few slow steps back to the desk and looked around him again. "What is it? What is it?" He leaned back against the lip of the desk and crossed his ankles in front of him, holding onto the edge of the top as he stared ahead of him blankly, trying to remember something for the umpteenth time that day. And for the umpteenth time that day, his memory wasn't cooperating.

"This is ridiculous!" Dante suddenly shouted and pushed off of the desk, growling under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the vacant eyes of a nearby demon head and his scowl deepened at its gaping mouth. "What are you laughing at?" he muttered angrily. He kicked the side of his desk in a sort of tantrum and knocked out one of its legs, the wood breaking easily. Dante snorted at the fine craftsmanship and bent down to inspect the lopsided desk. His brow furrowed at the broken leg. The wood was rotted and still soggy.

"…strange…" Dante glanced around the bottom of his desk and noticed water damage that stopped about midway up on all the sides. He nudged the corner and heard the swollen wood groan. The desk was still damp. It was something he should have noticed before but he supposed that he had been too preoccupied with figuring out who he was to have taken note of it before now. He pushed at the desk again and another support snapped off, making the desk collapse on one side.

Dante stood up from his crouched position and stared at the unbalanced piece of furniture in confusion. _Why is it wet?_ Moving his eyes from the base of the fallen desk, he looked along the floor and realized that the wood was buckled and had warped in places. More water damage, he alleged. It creaked and groaned beneath his heavy footsteps and he realized that, like the desk, the damage was recent. _Was there a flood?_

A moderately loud crash behind him caused Dante to turn his attention back to the desk and he saw that a drawer had fallen out of its slider. He walked around the piece of furniture and stopped short, seeing the contents of the compartment. The corners of his mouth rose into an unconscious smirk. He reached for the slick leather holsters and pulled out a silver and a glistening black handgun. The metal was cold but his hands felt quite comfortable clamped around the handles. He slid a finger along the curved triggers and thrust his arms out, pointing the guns around the room at invisible targets. He marveled at the polished surfaces of the guns and read out their names. "Ebony and Ivory." He nodded. "Nice." And very fitting considering their colours.

Momentarily placing the handguns on the floor since the desk was out of commission, Dante slipped off his jacket and strapped on the leather holsters. He realized immediately after he'd tucked Ebony and Ivory away, that he had been missing their weight on his sides. It had been the guns he was looking for before. He recognized them and knew their feel. They were his guns, passed down to him by his father—the devil Sparda.

Dante smiled at the memory the guns had brought back to him. He was the son of the devil Sparda; the legendary dark knight Sparda who had defeated Mundus…_But who the hell is Mundus?_

"Exactly," a voice said smoothly behind his turned back.

Dante blinked in surprise and spun around, reaching for his guns out of reflex. His movements were too sluggish and he was knocked back into what remained of the desk by a strong gust of wind. The rotted wood crumbled easily beneath him and as a thick splinter pierced his side, he was suddenly reminded of how familiar that pain was.

"Who?" Dante asked, wincing as he eased himself off the pike of wood. He completely forgot that he had just been attacked as he stared into the wide, glassy orbs of a woman with long auburn hair and he was nearly lost in the purple depths of her eyes. Again recognition struck him. "Do I…Do I know you?" He asked, tensing slightly as the woman glided towards him.

"Of course you do, my Darling." She smiled and Dante's jaw dropped. _Darling?_ _What is she on about?_ He felt her cold finger under his chin and his brow furrowed.

"You look shocked, my dear," the strange woman said, gently lifting up her finger to close the devil hunter's gaping mouth.

Shocked was an understatement and it was all Dante could do to keep his mouth from going slack again. The woman's finger remained under his chin and soon she slid her whole hand under to cup his jaw.

"My name is Maj. If that helps you at all," the woman said softly. "I can see that your memory has not entirely returned. And it is a shame that you do not know who I am, or what we once were…" Her tone was sad and Dante could see that the look in her eyes matched her pitch.

He studied her face for a long while, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was hearing her voice again in his head and the silkiness of it was so incredibly familiar. Surprisingly her name wasn't anything new to him either. He knew this woman—or at least did. Something deep down told him that he had seen her before but all he got was a hazy image. The only thing that was concrete was her voice. Yes. He definitely knew her voice.

"Maj," Dante said quietly, testing out the goddess' name. The woman smiled and drew her hand back after lightly brushing the backs of her fingers across his cheek.

"You're remembering."

Dante shrugged and looked down now that his chin was no longer being held up. "I'm remembering something," he said. "I don't really know what it is though. I think I know you. But…all I can remember is your voice." He looked up again and saw that Maj was still smiling at him. She reached out to his face again and cupped his cheek. She bent closer so they were nearly nose to nose.

"Don't worry my Darling. You will remember in time." She rubbed her thumb along his cheekbone and Dante felt, not tingles but actual sparks enter his skin. He flinched out of surprise more than pain. The word _Darling_ got him thinking again.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" he asked, fixing his eyes to the goddess'. "What were we?"

Maj's grin widened and she turned Dante's head slightly to the side. She leaned into his ear, her cold breath making the devil hunter shiver as she spoke. "Why lovers, of course."

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So I'm gonna leave it off here. It's not very long, but it's all I can manage right now. Part of Vergil's chap is written so I'll try to get it up ASAP, so just sit tight and keep those reviews coming!

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	10. A Sign To Attack

OMG OMG OMG OMG. The amount of reviews I'm getting is incredible. THANK YOU ALL SOOOOO MUCH. Wow. I never thought this fic, or anything I'd write would ever be this popular, but I guess I've been proven wrong. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. I'm over 100 reviews and that is so incredibly awesome. I was striving for that with at least one of my fics and I'm glad it was this one. I really enjoy writing it and I'm seriously gonna try not to cop out on you guys since I've been told in a lot of reviews that this is "the most kick ass fic on the site" or some such. Not sure that's entirely true but I'm not gonna disagree either when it feeds my blazing ego. cough

Ok sorry 'bout the somewhat excited banter but well, I'm overjoyed. Biggest thanks to any and all who have ever reviewed this thing. Please don't stop. I adore you guys.

So without further ado

Here's the next chap

Enjoy

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One Will Fall **Chapter 10: _A Sign To Attack_

Vergil was left in a state of utter confusion and near horror after his master had so forcefully told him to strike him down. He could not be sure by Mundus' tone whether it had been put out as a dare or an actual command. And being unsure of how to react to the words, he simply stayed silent and kept his shocked gaze to the stone floor, hoping the Darkness would give him further direction or at least laugh at his bewildered and frightened state.

There was no way Vergil could take on the Darkness and he knew it. He had always known it, and so had Mundus. It was one of the reason's why the dark twin loathed his brother. He hated that Dante was so carelessly cocky and able to stand up to anything, including the Dark Lord himself. The devil hunter was much like his father in that respect and Vergil felt like an outcast because he could not live up to the Legendary Sparda's reputation as his twin had. Instead he cowardly remained true to the Darkness so as not incur his wrath. He watched from the shadows as his brother basked in his glory while he wallowed in his defeat. And he never forgot his failure on Mallet Island. He would not let himself, and nor would the Darkness. It was something to always remind him of his weakness.

In fact, every time the hazy images of the battles fought with his brother passed into conscious thought, Vergil found himself mechanically grinding his jaw and breathing harshly through the tiny gaps of his teeth. He couldn't help himself and the rage the memories brought with them. And his angry fits happened so often throughout the long year that the sight of red before his eyes had almost become his constant vision. It had only intensified recently when he'd finally confronted his brother. He was always succumbing to the incredible heat simmering through his body as his anger boiled his blood enough for him to feel that his veins would burst. He was fed up of the sensations and he knew he could only end it by ending his brother. Once Dante was dead, the pain and anger would melt away and be replaced by the sweet taste of victory that had avoided him all his life.

The encounters with Dante were not pleasant times to revisit over and over again in sleep and while wide awake, but Vergil could not help them coming to the surface. Though watching the reruns of his defeat in his head was nothing compared to the embarrassment of being related to the one who had taken him down so many notches in such a short time, and to hear the praising voices calling out for their hero—_the son of Sparda_. It always amounted to dizzying anger whenever Vergil thought, or heard that title. And it hurt all the more because he knew that the label never referred to him.

Vergil was only a Sparda by likeness to his brother. He felt and strongly believed that there was no way he could be the real son of the Legendary Dark Knight, not when all he felt like was a pathetic clone of his famous devil hunter brother. Vergil himself wasn't even known. Never once had the underworld been in an uproar over the pathetic second to the great Darkness. Never once had he ever heard his name even mentioned, yet it was he, Vergil, the outcast spawn of the Devil Sparda who had the honor of standing beside—or rather, kneeling beside Mundus as he commanded the darkness from the netherworld. Hardly anyone knew of the devil Nelo Angelo. And it was the saddest thing for Vergil to think of that he didn't even have enough of a reputation to tarnish with his past defeats. He had rarely gotten and no longer expected to hear praise. Admiration was reserved for the best. And clearly he was not.

All the powerful blood that had been passed down from his father had apparently skipped Vergil entirely. Maybe Dante's jibe at him had actually been the truth. Perhaps they both could not be powerful. Maybe there hadn't been enough strength to spread between both white-haired twins. Vergil honestly believed that now. And he therefore concluded, that instead of having two moderately powerful children, it was somehow decided that creating one supremely powerful twin in the image of his father, and copping out on the second to form the poorest excuse for a devil, was the best possible solution his parents could come up with. Vergil felt that he obtained his weakness from his mortal mother since there was nothing left for him to be given by his father, and that was the reason he felt nothing for her and would not grieve in the slightest for her death. _Good riddance_ _and thank you for bringing me into this hell_ was all he could think to say of his mother's passing. Thinking of his father was not worth his time and it only made him seethe.

He was never endowed with any special powers, besides the ability to transform into a devil. All the strength he knew came from his time in the Darkness' shadow and clearly that had not been enough. He had thought it had been…and then he had run into his bigheaded—bigmouthed brother. This was why he clung to the darkness more than anything now. He needed more power. He needed something to back him up—Not that his constant position at Mundus' side was not also out of fear of his dark master, but he tried to tell himself that it was more for the power, otherwise he would become more depressive at his seeming worthlessness. He stayed in the underworld out of fear and out of self-pity and the desire to become something stronger than he was. Mundus had always seemed a gateway to the power he longed for.

He was yet to get all he wanted…

"I said strike me down, Nelo Angelo."

The voice of Mundus snapped Vergil out of his momentary lapse into self-loathing. He still didn't know how to react to his master's words and again opted to do nothing at all but kneel and look pathetic.

What the hell was he supposed to do anyway? Rise up and get his ass blown apart or stay quiet and hope that it was all just a cruel joke. He strongly hoped for the latter.

Steaming breath rushed past Vergil's face like fiery vapor as Mundus huffed angrily towards him and his stoic figure.

"Did you hear me Nelo Angelo? Or are you merely ignoring me?" the Darkness fumed.

Vergil shook his head feebly. "No master." The only words he could manage.

"No what?" Mundus inquired, anger and annoyance continuing to rise. He narrowed his eyes as Vergil chanced a peek at him from below his lashes. "Well?"

"I…I don't understand…My Lord," the dark twin added as an afterthought,

"What is not to understand?" The aggravation was clearly laced in Mundus' voice. "I told you to attack. Do it. You wanted my power. I am presenting would with an opportunity. I am basically placing myself at your mercy. Do not tell me you cannot face me now. Now after all your scheming and your treachery."

Vergil blinked, wide-eyed. He'd already told Mundus that he had no desire for his power. Did he not believe him? He thought he had sounded pathetically convincing enough. Or maybe this was a test—Yes. It had to be.

"No My Lord. I will not attack you." Vergil hesitated for a moment as he felt, rather than saw, Mundus' eyes flash at his refusal. "I don't wish for your power. I do not want it. I only wish to serve you," he added quickly. Technically it was a lie. He realized that now. He did actually want the Dark Lord's power to use against his brother, but he also knew that he was quite incapable of getting it himself.

Mundus paused for a good while again, taking the time to scrutinize the cowering devil. He was not entirely convinced and he knew deep down that Vergil did in fact yearn for his power. Who would not in his place? All evil was at his fingertips and he was incapable of nothing—the one exception being the defeat of a certain cocky devil hunter, but that matter would be fixed in due time. His word was law and all feared and knew his name. There was absolutely no one in the world and underworld that could refuse this power were it offered to him.

_**Do it**_

Vergil looked up, hearing a voice. He thought for a moment it had been Mundus but the Dark Lord still seemed to be silently contemplating. Then was it his own? No. It didn't sound right. No. He knew his own voice. He had not said those words, not even in his mind. Then who?

_**Do it**_

The voice repeated and Vergil was certain that it was not his voice, but it was inside his head. There was a sharp prick on his neck again, similar to the one that had struck him before Mundus had returned him to the underworld.

_**Do it**_

_Do what?_ He asked himself.

_**Do it** _the voice returned, a silky tone.

Vergil narrowed his eyes. _Who are you? What is this? Get out of my head._

_**DO IT**_ the command was getting more forceful and suddenly Vergil's neck was burning furiously. He reached back, feeling like he was on fire, and touched flesh. It was ice cold and yet he was wincing against the heat.

_**Do it. Do it. DO IT**_

_Do what?_ But there was almost no use in asking the question because the half-breed's body answered for him. Without intending to and much to his terror, Vergil stood and flexed his fingers around the sword that suddenly appeared in his fist. His body swayed and he felt intensely dizzy as the flaming feeling on his neck continued, but he was soon lost to another world where his body moved of its own accord, stalking threateningly towards the enormous form of Mundus.

While his mind screeched for his feet to stop, they wouldn't. And before Vergil could stop himself, not that he was able to, he leapt up and slashed his sword down at Mundus. Unfortunately the Dark Lord had been far from unaware of the coming attack and placed a shadow shield around him. Vergil's sword hit the barrier, sending of blue sparks and he was blasted backwards by a second force, a beam of red energy shooting from the Dark One's eyes. Vergil hit the ground with a dull thud and knew that this was the end. Whether Mundus had told him to do it or not, Vergil had attacked the Darkness and he would pay dearly for it, if not, and more than likely, with his life.

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Just so none of you freak out. This is not the end of Vergil. I wouldn't knock him off before he gets a chance to see his brother again. Their interactions are too much fun to write, so I won't spoil the opportunity for myself. 

This IS however, the end of this chapter, as it is blatantly obvious by you all scrolling down to the bottom of the page. I'll try to have the next one up soon and you all get to find out what becomes of this intriguing new development with Dante and Maj and what happens to Vergil.

Keep those reviews coming!

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	11. Around Her Finger

A very long time in coming. Sorry for the delay folks. Couldn't manage any updating till now.

Here's the next chapter

Enjoy

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One Will Fall**

**Chap 11: _Around Her Finger_**

Dante stared for a long time at the auburn-haired woman before him, letting the silence stretch in the room. Normally long silences were uncomfortable, and this one was no exception, but the devil hunter just couldn't manage to get his tongue to work well enough to voice any of the questions whirring about in his mind; one of which being the simple confirmation that he had heard Maj's statement correctly when her wispy voice had spoken in his ear.

_"Why lovers, of course."_

Of course? Did it have to be that simple? Did she have to make it seem like it should be so blatantly obvious to him that he, Dante, had once been involved with this mysterious woman? It was bad enough he couldn't remember his life, and what bits he had managed to figure out were a far stretch from the norm, but now he had to contend with having a lover that looked as though she would burst into tears if he displayed ignorance to that fact.

"Euh…You wanna run that by me again, Babe—uh—I mean Maj?" Dante began tentatively. "We were…involved?" For some reason he couldn't get himself to say the word 'lover'.

Maj studied him for a moment, her eyes unreadable and then she nodded. "Lovers. Yes. We were lovers, Dante."

"Ah." Dante looked down, bobbing his head in a slow nod. "And uh…Who are you exactly?"

Maj blinked at him and Dante saw a hint of a scowl on her face before she spoke. "My name is Maj. I have told you that already my Darling," she said with a somewhat forced calm.

Dante sighed, not getting the answer he had wanted. "Yeah. I got that. But apart from that. I know you're name and that according to you we had a relationship, but I can't say that I remember any of it."

Maj only stared at him and Dante breathed heavily again, glancing down at the ground before looking sideways at her. "We were lovers?" He just had to ask that question again because even though Maj had given him his answer, he still couldn't believe it.

Maj frowned and looked away. She was silent for so long that Dante wasn't sure anymore that she had heard him, either that or she'd started day dreaming, in which case Dante was about to shake her when she turned back to him, and the look in her eyes startled him; there was nothing but pure hurt lying in their depths and it made Dante's breath catch in his throat.

"Yes." Maj's voice wavered. "I have told you. We were lovers. Is it so surprising?" She made sure to put some measure of her hurt in her tone while she watched Dante's eyes slightly widen and his brow furrow in an "are you shittin' me?" kind of way. Maj held in an annoyed heavy breath at the look and instead smiled sadly. "Well of course you're surprised, Darling. After what you've been through for me—for _us_. It is no wonder. But I should rather have said disappointed." Her voice dropped slightly so that Dante had to lean forwards to hear what she was saying.

Maj decided it was time to turn up the charm to make matters move faster. With her head bent, Dante couldn't really see her face but he had a feeling that her eyes were now misted.

"Are you…disappointed…Dante?" Maj looked up as she said his name and Dante noticed immediately that her eyes were indeed watery.

Dante gulped, but didn't look away from the goddess' sorrowful face. It wasn't that he was disappointed; more that he was so shocked by the news that he wasn't prepared to accept matters right off. All he had to go on to reconstruct his life today came from strange outside sources and possible memories that had reluctantly resurfaced in his mind, so he wasn't sure what to make of any of it at the moment.

Maybe he had a lover. Maybe he didn't and this was just some whack-job lady trying to get something out of him, but Dante couldn't bring himself to overlook Maj's tearful expression; ever a sucker for a pair of big goo goo eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, hesitantly putting a hand on Maj's shoulder. Possible whack-job or not, Dante couldn't stand to see a woman cry, and especially over him. "Please don't cry. I'm…I'm not disappointed. It's just…I can't remember…I want to. But…I'm sorry."

Maj was glad as Dante steered his gaze blankly to the wall of armaments for a moment because otherwise he would have seen her small triumphant smirk. It was turning out to be far easier to convince the devil hunter of their supposed relationship than she had originally anticipated. Just a few tears and he was already apologizing to her instead of being skeptical. Men.

"It's okay," said Maj quietly, sniffling for effect. "I understand. You've been through much. I'm just so thankful…So thankful I didn't lose you!" Pushing things farther, Maj lurched forward and wrapped her arms around the startled devil hunter, crying up a storm into his chest. For the second time, Dante had been about to ask what had happened to cause his loss of memory, since Maj seemed to know, but as soon as the waterworks started, all that he could think to do was try and comfort the woman holding him in a death grip while soaking his shirt with her tears.

It was a while before Maj quieted and Dante could get her to ease up her hold on him. When she looked up once again, her eyes were red and swollen and her face glistened with tears. Instinctively Dante brushed a hand across her cheek, feeling a cold tingle rush down his arm as he wiped away her tears. Maj stared at him with wide, sad violet eyes and Dante couldn't help but be lost in them. He was so transfixed by the intense emotion in her gaze that he felt himself swooning and was glad that he was already sitting on the floor; otherwise he was sure his knees would have buckled by now.

"Maj…" Dante wasn't sure why he had said her name, or why he was leaning his face closer to hers; her name was just drawn out of him, while he was pulled towards her by some unknown force. When there lips brushed, he felt literal sparks on his skin and, shocked, meant to pull away but Maj forced her mouth back onto his.

The kiss was short but it left Dante feeling disoriented and light. It took a full minute for his eyes to focus properly on the woman whose face was still so close to his. And meeting Maj's unusual coloured eyes, Dante found himself wanting to kiss her again.

And he did.

There was the strange tingling as their lips met a second time and a rush of cold spread throughout his limbs. Dante felt frozen on the spot and couldn't bring himself to pull away from the goddess, even when he felt a hard tension in his chest; something like a strong fist squeezing his heart. He cringed and when the pressure continued to get stronger he jerked away, gasping and clutching a hand to his chest.

"Oh! Are you alright, my love!" Maj exclaimed in an almost overly protective voice, laying a hand on Dante's back and the other over the devil hunter's fist on his heart. Dante breathed slowly and heavily and eventually relaxed, the feeling of something compressing his heart having finally subsided. "Eh-yeah….yeah. I'm fine…I guess."

"Oh good." Maj hugged him gently. "Don't ever scare me like that again." _Damn it. So close...But no matter. He's gone too far to easily pull away from me now._

Still hugging him, Maj started quaking with silent laughter at the thought of how smoothly her plans were going. Having already gotten rid of the other Sparda twin, nothing too large now stood in the way of her ultimate goal—as long as the devil hunter stayed on her side. But Maj wasn't worried. Even a half-devil could be twisted around her finger as easily as any other man.

Feeling her body shake with what he assumed were tears, Dante quickly forgot about the former pain in his chest and held Maj, rubbing her back soothingly. "Ssh. It's ok. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He tried to comfort her, "I guess it was nothing. It's ok. Please don't cry."

The devil hunter's words brought a wide grin to the goddess' face, luckily one that Dante could not see. And Maj was so pleased with how things were going that she nearly let her laughter become audible.

It was just too easy. Even if Dante did not necessarily believe that they had once had a relationship, she'd done enough in the last half hour to make him at least want to comfort her. Maj could almost feel herself sitting on the thrown of the underworld at that very moment. She snickered quietly, confident that it sounded enough like sniffling that Dante wouldn't notice. She pulled away slowly and looked up into Dante's pale eyes and hazarded a small smile. He seemed relieved by it and grinned softly back.

"Are you okay now?" He asked quietly. Maj nodded and shifted to stand. Dante quickly got to his feet and helped her up.

"Why thank you." Maj smiled, taking his hand. "The gentleman, as always."

"Eh," Dante smiled sheepishly, hoisting her to her feet. "I'll have to take your word for that, but thanks."

Maj's eyes sparkled with amusement and she stretched up on her toes to give Dante a kiss on the cheek. He staggered for an instant and grinned stupidly back. Maj rolled her eyes, which she hid by looking around the front office. She took note of all the weaponry and demon heads that Dante held as trophies.

_Looks indeed to be quite the warrior._Maj mused, _He should have no trouble getting what I want for me. And if he fails, I'll just have to find someone else. No harm done. At least I'll have done my brother and me a favour by having both Spardas eliminated._

"Maj?"

"Hm?"

"What happened to us? Why don't I remember?"

"Oh Dante, Dear. Must we talk about that now? It's so painful." Maj bent her head, new tears in her eyes. The goddess herself was surprised that she was still capable of them, but glad nonetheless as they did the trick.

"No…no. I guess not." Dante consented, noticing her reaction. "I don't want to upset you again. But I still want to know. I don't like being kept in the dark about my own life. It's really pissing me off that I can't remember anything." He sighed and Maj touched his arm.

"I know, my love. I'll tell you everything soon enough." In truth, Maj didn't want to divulge the reason as to why she needed him just yet. She wanted to be sure that Dante was completely under her spell so that he wouldn't remember anything further of the time before he fought his brother on the rooftop and lost his memory. "It's late and you look tired, Darling. I'm sure it's been a long day for both of us. So why don't we rest. I may be feeling well enough to tell you everything in the morning."

Dante nodded reluctantly and stifled a yawn. He was really tired all of a sudden, though still itching to have his memories back, but he figured that it wouldn't kill him to let things slide for the time being.

"Alright," Dante sighed sleepily. "Tomorrow then." He unconsciously reached a hand to Maj's cheek and gave her a deep kiss, sending the expected chills throughout his body. And as soon as his eyes drifted shut he lost all sense of anything until a severe jolt of pain erupted all along one side of his body. He yelled and stumbled backwards, nearly falling over the pile of broken wood that had once been his desk.

His eyes widened in alarm and he gripped his side as blood gushed between his fingers and around the foot long blade lodged in his side. He pulled the dagger out with a cry and tossed it to the ground beside him. He looked ahead and saw Maj, her back now turned to him obviously staring at the line of Marionettes covering the front wall and blocking the large double doors to DMC; the same ones he had failed to notice until now. And he was pretty confident that his new wound had been cause by one of the leering puppet demons.

"Agh…shh.." Dante groaned and hissed in air. With his memory gone, he couldn't remember if he'd ever felt pain this intense. And matters were only made worse as his body remembered about his previously injured shoulder. "…Maj? Get…Get away from there. Get…behind me. Please."

Dante staggered forward and Maj turned her gaze to him. And expecting horror, Dante was surprised to see rage in her eyes. He squinted and blinked and that split second was enough time for fear to have finally registered on her face.

Maj hurried behind Dante and clung to his jacket desperately. "Oh please. Don't let them hurt me Dante. I'm so very frightened," Maj squeaked from behind him. "Please. Make them go away." _Yes. Make them go away_. Maj thought angrily. _What was my brother thinking, sending those worthless demons here? Wasn't killing one of the sons of Sparda enough for him?_ "Dante. PLEASE. Save us!"

Oh, how Dante would have loved to have done just that. But he couldn't force his body to move. He was rooted to the spot and right now, he felt that he was showing as much fear, if not more than, the woman behind him; the one that he was supposed to be protecting.

"Ah. Shit." _Why do I have to be Mr. Heroic? What the hell are these things? I know I'm supposed to be the devil hunter here, but goddamn. Maybe I'll just quit. Right here and now. Yup. No devil hunting for me. And besides, this could all be just a bad dream._

Dante stared ahead at the demons and broke out of his thoughts just long enough to duck from away from two whizzing blades, pulling Maj down to the floor with him. _Yup.__ Just a bad dream._

"Do something Dante!" Maj's voice was more forceful than before and Dante very nearly let out a squeak.

"I'm trying, Woman! But I don't have anything to fight with!" _And my left side feels like it's been hit by and eighteen-wheeler!_ Dante resisted the urge to shout.  
Maj clammed up for second, scowling darkly behind Dante's back. _And you don't have a wall of weapons at your disposal?_ Maj looked at the wall impatiently and while the devil hunter was distracted by the approaching demons, she summoned a strong gust of wind that knocked Sparda off the wall. It fell with a loud clang but Dante didn't seem to notice. Maj huffed and then exclaimed loudly so that Dante would look at her. "Look!" She pointed. "Your sword!"

"Huh? Oh!" Dante saw the large blade lying a few meters away and crawled towards it.

Maj scowled. _Stand up, you buffoon!_ "Hurry Dante! They're coming!"

_I KNOW! Damn it. Irritating as hell that woman. Maybe we are in a relationship._ "GAH!" Dante rolled over as blade came crashing down. A blue marionette had suddenly rushed towards him and slammed it's blade into the floor where he had just been; the same kind of blade that Dante had recently ripped back out of his side. _Oh. You are so dead, freaky puppet man. Like hell I'm gonna be taken out by a possessed kid's toy...no matter how mean and scary they are._

Diving the last two feet to his sword, Dante grabbed _Sparda_ in a tight fist and swung it around, sliding up to one knee. He blocked the next few swipes of two Marionettes a little awkwardly; one managed to slice his sleeve while the other nicked his hand, but as soon as he got to his feet he took them out easily enough.

Maj sighed with relief as Dante took out Marionette after Marionette. She had been worried for a moment there as Dante was acting more like a frightened child than the renowned devil hunter that he was supposed to be, but he seemed to be back in his element now. There were only three marionettes left to do away with.

Dante cleaved his sword through another and managed to block a blow from behind on the back swing. He was very close to finishing off the remaining puppets when he got a hitch in his wounded side that caused him to hesitate in delivering a blow. It was all the chance the red puppet, Bloodi Mari needed. Using its power, Dante found himself being hoisted up on invisible strings and he wriggled helplessly as the demon leapt towards him, wrapping its spindly legs around his neck. It slashed down at its face, spraying blood as its arms ripped across Dante's face and through his shoulder.

The devil hunter cried out but here was nothing he could do. He was stuck in the spell and too weak to fight his way out of it. Another Marionette came up behind him and wasted no time in doing a number on Dante's back.

Dante's head swam and his hearing was dropping to low hum. He could just make out the shredding noise of his clothing as the Marionettes kept up their frenzied attack. Each swipe was like any other and Dante could no longer distinguish between the jolts of white hot pain. It was just a continuous string of agony and Dante couldn't figure out why his body still wanted him to be awake for it. He should have passed out long ago from pain, or loss of blood at the very least.

_Pass out. Just pass out. Come on. You know you want to. You don't want to be awake for this. Just go to sleep. Give up already. Let's go, man. Enough!_

"DANTE!"

Despite what his mind was pleading for his body to do, Dante had to give up on losing consciousness in the instant he heard Maj's terrified scream. He was supposed to be protecting her, and here he was trying to force his mind into darkness.

With an inhuman roar, Dante pulled his arms down with all his might and managed to break through the puppet's spell. At that moment an odd sensation rushed through his body and Dante could feel himself changing, feeling a new energy course through his limbs. A cooling haze swirled around him and Dante lost his notice of pain. He was still aware of his wounds and the seeping blood, but the pain was no longer bothering him as much. It almost felt like it was lessening. Could his body be healing by itself? _Maybe.__ Not important right now though._

Maj screamed again and Dante struck out his fists at the demons that had taken such joy in assaulting him only moments ago. Blue jolts of electricity emitted from his hands and feet as his blows hit their mark. And he kept wailing on the two demon puppets until they both crashed to the ground. A quick use of _Sparda_ finished them off.

Dante remained in a fighting stance for a few minutes after he had done away with the last of the Marionettes, until he was sure that no more were coming. Then his arm fell heavily at his side and Sparda hit the floor again; Dante soon followed, first his knees, then his hands. He was on all fours, breathing raggedly and shivering when Maj hurried to his side.

"Darling…Are you…"

Dante didn't hear her. The cooling mist and the burst of strength he had used to finish off the Marionettes had run out. He was drained and more than willing to welcome unconsciousness now.

"To..morrow…" Dante breathed and dropped to the floor, falling into nothingness immediately.

* * *

Hope that was long enough for you guys. Made it twice as long as I was originally intending because I felt that, **for once**, I wouldn't leave it at a cliff.

Love hearing from you guys so make sure you keep up the reviews and I'll try to have the next chapter out far faster than I did this one. What was it…like 5 months? Geez. I've been slackin'.

Anyway

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